


Dulces

by BHC



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Cannibalism, Child Loss, F/M, Fluff, Gutting, Hanging, Kidnapping, Rape, Sex, Smut, Suicide, Torture, movies & tv shows references/mentions, murder tableau, murder tableaux, murders, social media references/mentions, some langauage, tags will be added as they come to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BHC/pseuds/BHC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal meets a woman who goes from patient to protege, leaving an impression on his heart</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polvorones

**Author's Note:**

> _Previously posted on Tumblr and Deviantart [http://bhc89.deviantart.com/gallery/49486745/Hannibal-Dulces]_
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> My first Hannibal fan fic (and one of the few long stories I've finished) that started shortly after discovering this wonderful series (sometime April last year). At the time there was only season 1 and up to season 2 ep 8 (Su-zakana) and since they teased us with Jack's possible death at the beginning of the season, I honestly believed there'd be no more Jack [and this was before I re-watched 'Silence' and saw 'Hannibal', 'Red Dragon', and 'Manhunter' (still haven't read the books yet--I started 'Rising' tho)] and I believed that the cannibal bastard would get away with what he was doing for awhile longer. Thus, spawned Eva and Hannibal and Will still working together with the FBI. Then, as season 2 continued and ended, I was able to add more elements from the show into the project, including who my finale killer would be (had the idea, just didn't have a character yet, but the show provided the perfect one). So, think of this like an AU season 2.75 that takes place between Tome-wan and Mizumono (what a gap). Along the lines of 'if I've gotten my show/movie/book info wrong', I don't know much about psychology. I don't study it/never been to a shrink. What I know of the human mind I've learned from TV/movies and just from life in general. Forensics/law, again I used what I learned from Forensic Files and IDtv and various internet searches (wooo--my history was interesting for a while). So any misinformation, please forgive me.
> 
> Chapter one introduces Claire Dove and it's very heavy on setting up who she is. Because I started out wanting just her and Hannibal, but soon I figured that'd get really boring so I attempted a murder side plot. Then I realized that doing that follows suit with the show (which is totally something I wanted/needed). As the Claire/Hannibal story goes on so do the murders and Hannibal/Will (although not so much because I got a little confused on where Will's alliance was). I tried to keep everyone in character and keep the balance between the murder drama and the relationship drama.
> 
> _A reminder that this was my first fanfic for Hannibal and the first one I had written in a LONG while--like, since Jr. High school (think it was 2006/7). So, it's not the greatest quality writing...._

Hannibal Lecter sat at the desk in his office flipping through some old medical book, absorbing all the info it had to offer. The phone rang; he picked it up:

"Doctor Lecter," he answered.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Lecter. It's Olivia Davies," the voice over the phone announced. "I'm calling on behalf of a patient of mine. I've done all I can do for her with my capabilities and I'd figure you'd be the best doctor to take over for me. Are you able to see her now, you know, to get the paper work filled out? Plus, this gives her a chance to get to know you." Doctor Davies lowered her voice to a half-ass, with a hint of caring whisper. "She's kind of a shy, timid little thing."

"I don't believe I have any appointments for awhile, but let me check" Hannibal pulled out his appointment book. "Yes, I'm free until 2. What is the patient's name?"

"Claire Dove."

Hannibal scribbled the name in the book. "I'll get out the forms and I'll be ready for her when she gets here."

"Thanks, Doctor Lecter." Davies paused for a minute. Then added, "Without giving too much information away, I'll warn you she's kind of a difficult one. She takes a little getting used to."

"I'm sure I can handle it". He smiled a little as he said his goodbye, hung up, and searched for the confidentiality forms and various other papers the new patient would have to sign.

It was about half an hour to forty five minutes later, that Hannibal finally heard a knock at his door. He got up from his desk and opened the door to see a short, red haired young woman before him.

"You must be Claire Dove," he assumed.

"Yes," she said in a very quiet voice, just barely glancing up at his face.

"Well, come in."

She nodded and stepped into the office with her head down. Hannibal saw right away what Doctor Davies meant. He noticed that her stride was that of a person with low self-esteem issues. However, her head did pop up to take in her surroundings. He saw a glimmer in her eyes and heard a small "whoa" as she looked at all the books and took in the bigness of the room, with all the pictures and statues that decorated it.

"Come," he gestured. "I have the paperwork over hear at my desk." She followed still looking around.

He handed her a clipboard and a pen. She took it and sat down in one of the squishy looking chairs in the middle of the room. Hannibal sat across from her. As she looked the papers over and scribbled where necessary, she never said a word. But occasionally, attempted to subtly gaze up over her glasses at Hannibal. Hannibal cocked his head a little and leaned forward.

"So,"he began. "Let's get to know each other. Why do you feel you need to see a psychiatrist?"

Her eyes continued to scan the papers as she took a big sigh and began to answer. "Well, I have either anxiety and/or depression and I can't seem to work it out on my own. Then again going to doctors doesn't seem to be helping either." Finally, her eyes lifted fully almost meeting his. She caught herself and went back to filling in the blanks before her.

"What do you mean?" He almost sounded insulted.

The pen stopped moving and again her eyes looked up. "It's just....I've been to six doctors because of various reasons: price goes up, can't fit me in, can't help me without meds, or one occasion I just couldn't stand the ass--whoop!" She covered her mouth.

"It's alright. I don't mind. You can say that here." He was slightly stunned that a grown woman would react like that to letting out a swear word, but then he remembered that some of his colleagues don't particularly like that type of language. He did smirk a little at the thought that someone would be considerate of that kind of thing. He summarized over what she said, "So you felt it was all about money, drugs, schedule and personality conflicts?"

"Yep", she said bluntly. She twitched a little as she lowered her head to continue the paperwork. "You'll probably end up sending me to someone else too. It'll just be a matter of time."

'Oh, that's not fair,' he thought. Then asked, "You really think I'll be like that?"

"Yeah, why not? I mean, it's been six for six--100% so far. Those odds are not in my favor."

"We'll see."

Claire gave a small sarcastic chuckle as she finished up and handed the clipboard back to Hannibal. He skimmed it to make sure not a blank was left unfilled. Apparently, Claire took this as a sign they were done for she was getting up from her chair. Hannibal saw it and gestured that they weren't done yet. She sat back down, slightly confused.

"Please, tell me a little about yourself," he said while he put the clipboard down.

"Well....there isn't that much to me...." The look of confusion didn't leave her face as the sentence just sort of fell out.

"Nonsense. You're here for a reason. One that indicates that there's more to you than even you know."

A look of impression came over her face. "I guess."

"So, please. What makes you say that you have a mental illness?"

"I-uh- I guess life....responsibilities. I feel alone and confused all the time..."

He pushed a little more. "Do you have family? Significant other?"

" _Had_ a significant other. He was a prick." She glanced up to see if Hannibal would react to her choice of words, but he only nodded. "He- uh....he was lazy and constantly putting me down. He was terrible with money and tried to be controlling. I put up with the real him for about two years. Finally, I said that I'd had enough and I left. Never looked back, only to get my stuff."

" _Tried_ to be controlling?"

"Yeah, he'd demand I'd do something and I'd just ignore it. He wasn't like that at all when we were first dating in high school. Wasn't until we moved in together did I learn he was wanting a mother or more likely a slave than a girlfriend. I do still kind of dwell on that. Just--when I'm laying in bed trying to go to sleep, it hits me that I maybe forever alone...who'd want an ugly bitch like me, am I right?"

This took Hannibal aback slightly. He looked her over. She wasn't what he'd call ugly, but she wasn't drop dead gorgeous either. She was only about five foot maybe five foot four in the high heeled boots she was wearing. She wasn't wearing any make up, and her hair was just up in a bun, or the more he looked at it, it was more like she didn't pull her ponytail out of the scrunchy completely and it was slightly greasy. Her face was chubby, slightly broken out, but that was probably stressed related. Weight wise, she wasn't a skeleton:broad shoulders; heavy chested (the Ankh [Egyptian symbol of life] necklace she wore helped him see that); slight belly--not really fat, but you could tell she didn't starve herself; plump thighs -possibly muscle, defiantly some meat to her. 'She is no Alana Bloom,' he thought, but corrected himself that no one was his former lover Alana. Attention back at the woman before him, this Claire, he noticed she had almost gold eyes as the sun peeped in through the window and lit them up. A brief moment of 'wonder how many stakes could I get out of her' passed through his mind but again, he shot that down. Hannibal wasn't quite sure yet if she was food, patsy, patient, or even friend yet. He'd just have to wait. He could be staring at his next Will Graham, after all the low self-esteem are easily misled. But again, he'd have to wait and see.

"You're not ugly. Don't say that," he brought himself to say.

The look she gave screamed "whatever" and she rolled her eyes.

Hannibal saw the difficulty that Doctor Davies mentioned. Didn't detour him any. He looked down at his watch; it was almost 2. Chances are his next patient is waiting out in the other room for him. He really wanted to chat more with Claire. He found her very intriguing but only because she had been so damaged.

"My next appointment should be here," he said. "What day works for you for your next appointment?"

She took a deep breath again. "Oh, here we go.....uh, if we can leave it at Wednesdays around ten in the morning that would work perfectly. I already have that set up as my appointment days at work. If I have to change, I'll need to get back to you."

"Well, let's see." He got up from the chair and walked over to the desk. He checked the book again, making sure that Wednesdays at ten were open for a while. Lucky for her, they were. He jotted her name down and turned to her. "All right then. Wednesdays at ten it is." He then grabbed one of his cards and wrote the time and date on the back of it. Even though she had this patterned established, he worried that she maybe damaged enough where this change would throw her off track.

She took the card from him, not without a disdained look on her face, like she didn't want it but knew what he was doing or figured just in case. She glanced at it as she turned to head to the door. Hannibal followed. He held the door for her.

"You can get through this, you know?" he offered.

She offered a halfy smile in return. "I'll believe it when I see it." She walked away with her head down once again.

 

****************************Next Week**********************************

 

Hannibal checked his appointment book. "Claire Dove- 10am" it read. 'Oh, yea. The new patient. I expect it to be interesting,' he thought as he checked his watch: 9:50am. She was already in the waiting room. To the door he went.

"Claire, come in."

She walked in, head down and holding a hoodie over her arm. She looked up just enough to make sure she wouldn't run into something. Hannibal felt a slight twinge of pity for her. It's always sad when someone is so hurt that they find they're feet more interesting than the sky and clouds, or in this case the structure, above them.

"So last time we met," he began as they both took their seats. "We had discussed your ex-boyfriend. Care to continue or would you like to discuss something else that bothers you? It's your hour; talk about what you'd like."

He saw her think it over. After a while she did her deep breath thing and spoke. "Not really much more to add about that boyfriend thing. It took so long for a dude to actually notice me and then he turns out to be a big jerk.... and baby."

"So he was the only boyfriend you'd ever had?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah. Too much of an independent, ugly, geeky, nerd apparently."

Her words hurt him slightly. He actually found it painful to listen to her put herself down. He'd heard stuff like it before. He's a psychiatrist after all. There was always someone who found faults in themselves. But, there was just a scary, sincerity in her voice when she said it. He really wanted to tell her to stop but he knew how vital it was to the whole healing process.

"Of course, that's probably why I didn't have many friends," she continued. She looked up as she let her life story spill. "When I was ten we moved from a small town to a smaller town...technically a village. In my old school, I had grown up with all those people so I was friends with, like, everyone. I had self-confidence. I was open. But when I moved to the village....life got difficult. At first, everyone was nice and welcoming. They even decorated my desk. It was sweet. Then, I got talking to the girls wanting to make friends of course and they said that if I wanted to be their friend that I'd have to wear what they wore, only hang with them, you know, be like them and I just couldn't do that. I didn't want to be them and I had more in common with this other guy than I did with them. So they turned on me. Shortly after all the boys turned on me too. I only had that one friend and everything I did was a hilarious, public spectacle. "Oh, look she failed a spelling test." "God, she's always wanting to participate in show and tell." "She's so bad at sports." "Look at her buck teeth!" I remember in D.A.R.E. class we did a self-esteem balloon thing. We blew up a balloon and for every stress you let out as much air as the stress takes out on you. Needless to say, my balloon went flat."

Hannibal sat there and listened. Nodding his head occasionally, indicating that that scenario would damage anyone's psyche.

She smiled at him. The first real smile he'd seen from her. "Not gonna lie; I don't normally just throw that out there on the first or second appointment. But there's something about you that makes me believe that you actually care to hear it. There's only been one other time I felt that comfortable with a psychiatrist. Then she retired."

He gave her his famous little smirk. "I'm glad that you feel that way. The best way to heal is to let it all out. Sometimes the smallest detail can lead to a big change. Hiding anything could result in disasters."

"True. You don't tell the doctor you're on some medication and it might counteract some other medication that can save your life. Makes sense it'd work on the mental scale too."

'Ok. She's not clueless. Interesting,' he thought. Hannibal pushed again, "So your depression or anxiety started then?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure puberty didn't help either." She laughed a little. "Wild hormones always throw the brain for a loop. Of, course that's when I really plumped out. And my face broke out horribly....not what you'd call a self-esteem booster. But, anyway, back to the friends thing. I only had that one friend through this difficult time. Occasionally, there'd be someone else, but they usually ended up moving away or we'd tire of each other. One girl told me that I was "ruining her reputation". Another, said that as long as I was friends with her cousin then she couldn't hang with me. Said that it wasn't me and that she still liked me and would be friends, she just didn't get along with the cousin who was my best friend at the time. This crap went on until our school consolidated with another school. It was a fresh start. Everyone was pretty much new to each other and I found more people who could tolerate me and I had a few friends--not anyone I could hang out with due to distance and money."

Hannibal interrupted with "Money?"

"Yeah." Claire looked uncomfortable. "My family was-is- poor. I didn't have my first car until I was twenty, by then we'd graduated and everyone left the area. Ummm....couldn't afford the gas if I were to borrow one of my parents cars. If my pals wanted to go shopping or to the movies or to a restaurant I didn't have the money. I did have a couple jobs during high school, but they didn't last long. The grocery store I worked at closed down and the restaurant I worked at should've been shut down--that one though, they let me go. Said they didn't need me anymore."

There was a moment of silence where Hannibal looked down at his watch. The hour was almost up--that was quick. "Claire, our time is up. I think we've made descent progress today. Are you ok?" He was concerned that bringing up these memories would wound her. She just nodded her head and said she was fine.

"You know," she added. "You are the quietest psychiatrist I've been to. Everyone else was "how did that make you feel" or "I think da da da..." "Have you tried blah blah?"

There was his smirk again. "Like I said, it's _your_ hour. I don't need to push for every detail. If you feel it's important to mention how you felt or what you tried _then_ it becomes important." The thought made Claire smile.

"I like that. Thank you."

The gears turned in Hannibal's brain. Every detail about her would determine where she would fit into his plans. He was running low on meat and would have to hunt soon. Would she be worth it? Maybe not.....yet. She's smart. Maybe he'd be better off letting her take the blame. So far from what Claire has told him, she's had the background that could breed a serial killer.

The gentleman in him followed her to the door and held it open for her. She walked through and turned to face him. She smiled and let out a cliché, "Same time next week?"

"Of course." He smiled back.

Let the pieces fall in place.

 

***********************************************************************

 

"Last week, you briefly mentioned your parents," Hannibal started the conversation this time. "Tell me about them."

Claire straightened up, took a deep breath, and spilled the beans. "My relationship with them soured." She looked at him. His face showed a very slight concern. It was just enough to let her know he was listening. "My mom has always been controlling and a spazz. She's OCD so the slightest mess would freak her out. And when I grew up and moved out on my own, we'd do our shopping days together. Take one car; split the gas. Go in the morning; avoid the crowds. Go on payday. That was all fine for awhile, but then I started working in the mornings and it seemed like almost every shopping day, I'd get off of work and then go directly shopping. I'd work until six in the morning and wouldn't go to bed until....one?...in the afternoon. Sometimes, I'd have to go back to work later that night and again get off at six. She wouldn't change her schedule....at all...payday was shopping day and that was that. My dad is a depression sufferer too. There'd be days I'd see him and he wouldn't say much to me and he was always hiding in his room.

"Basically, my relationship with my parents went wrong due to how my ex screwed up what little sanity I had. I didn't want to be home so I was over with them a lot." A look of guilt came over Claire's face. "It's not like I had any friends I could run too."

"Still have trouble making friends?" asserted Hannibal.

Claire only nodded. She looked like she was near tears. "After, I broke up with my ex, I moved to a studio apartment."

"Why didn't you stay with your parents for awhile?"

"They didn't have the room." She shook her head as she went to the next sentence. "I was pretty lost after graduation, my ex, not having any friends or anywhere to go, the crap at my job, and being out on my own, my mental health deteriorated. So I looked into getting help. Which, costs...a lot. So, I took on another job. Which put more pressure on me. I'd have spazz attacks and here would be my mother telling me to more or less get over it. And that if _she_ can handle it, then so can I. I eventually got put on anti-depressants. Neither my mom or my dad liked that idea very well and convinced me that they were not helping and to stop taking them. So I did. I'd start mood swinging and here comes the get over it crap again. And one day I snapped. Basically, told them where to go and I haven't spoken to them in a couple of months. It's not that I don't want to I just don't have the time. And nobody's got a hold of me, so I don't know what's going on."

By now, Claire was shaking a little and Hannibal noticed it. He leaned forward and spoke in a soft, caring voice; his accent adding a touch of authority, "You did the right thing by getting out of the toxic situation. Not necessarily going about it the right way, but you defiantly needed a brake from them and they from you. You seemed very close to them and thus bothered by the idea of them being fed up with you. You should make time to talk to them. Even if by email. Something. And all you'd have to say is what you feel."

She nodded, biting her lip. Yep, it bothered her.

"You should, at least, write a letter to them. Even, if you never give it to them," he offered. "That way, you're not holding in that frustration anymore."

The hour ended just as it did before. He walks her out. She smiles, says the thing, and leaves.

There was no appointment after her, so that gave him time to think. For some reason it was about Claire. He just couldn't get her out of his head. What was it about her? He tried hard to focus on his next hunt. Debating about what dish to make and what type of meat it would need....and who it would come from. But the thought of Clair kept coming back. And not as his next victim but, what? He wasn't sure.

There was a knock at the door. Too early for the next appointment. He opened it to see his, what he considered to be friend, Will Graham. Hannibal gestured the tall, thin, glasses clad, man in.

"Good afternoon, Will." A smile accompanied the greeting.

"Afternoon, Doctor Lecter." He too smiled, but his greeting came out with quite a bit of resentment to it.

Their relationship had always been...weird. Will always knew that Hannibal had different tastes but he could never prove it. Every time he'd be close to showing who Hannibal really was, the manipulative bastard would be three sometimes four steps ahead. So, Will had to start playing his own manipulation game and keep Hannibal at arms length while trying to keep him convinced they were on the same team. Will was his own lure in this fishing trip.

Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and would bait him back. He'd leave just enough evidence to convince Will that it was him, but he'd already be at the end of his domino line ready for the push that aloud the pieces to fall where he wanted and point the crimes towards someone else without any doubt. A fish that would just nibble the bait and gets the attention of another fish who eventually gets snared. Isn't that what friends do though? Play fun games with each other?

"Your appointment isn't for another day or so." Hannibal asked, "To what do I owe the pleasant surprise?"

"Working on a case. Need to vent." Will paced the room a little. "Four, young blonde women disappear. Two days later they reappear...dead. Left in their sports cars. Dressed up for the night on the town. Faces pushed into smiles. Killer poisoned them. He didn't want to leave any imperfections."

Hannibal tilted his head in interest. "Did they have any other connections besides hair color and sports cars?"

"Of course. They weren't natural blondes. They were big into plastic surgery including breast implants. Took hours a day to get dolled up. They looked like...."

"Barbies?" Hannibal answered automatically, thinking of some of his female patients who would call girls like that "Barbie dolls".

"Yes." Will's eyes were big.

"Who were their plastic surgeons?"

"I'm gonna find out." With that Will whipped out his cell phone. Said a "good bye" and "thanks" to Hannibal and he left.

The number Will dialed was to the head of the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI; the person he'd have to answer to when he consulted on FBI cases. Some time ago the position had belonged to Jack Crawford. But Jack had been murdered. Will knew damn well it was Hannibal but all evidence had pointed to Freddie Lounds, the woman in charge of the once famous website Tattle Crimes. Jack's wife Bella found out that Feddie was the main suspect and had stabbed her right in the heart as Freddie was being escorted from court to jail. It was all so quick and unexpected no one had a chance to stop Bella.

The phone rang a couple times and then a female voice answered. "Mist."

"Eva, it's Will. Has anyone checked on who the plastic surgeon or surgeons were in the Barbies case?"

"Yes, Zeller and Price checked and found all the girls had the same plastic surgeon. A Doctor Bryan Boscoe. I'm on my way to his office right now to check him out."

Will grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. "What's the address? I'll meet you there."

Will drove to the address he was given and met the tall, muscular, raven-haired Eva Mist outside. Neither was real sure what nutcase was waiting for them inside, but both had their guns ready to be whipped at a moment's notice.

They reached the door marked Boscoe. Eva knocked and a cheery voice on the other end answered "Come in." Will and Eva stepped into the office, slightly nervous about what would happen.

"Doctor Boscoe," Eva began in her very confident voice. "I'm Agent Eva Mist and this is Will Graham. We're with the FBI."

"I knew it was a matter of time before you'd show up." His voice was slightly shaky. He motioned them to sit down.

"What makes you say that?" Eva asked.

"Well, I'm a common factor. I worked on all the women. I didn't murder them." He sounded and looked very convincing.

"What were you doing the nights the girls disappeared?"

"I was here, finishing up paperwork and then surfing the internet to see if there are any new procedures I should be aware about. I didn't even go home until three o'clock in the morning."

As he finished what he was saying, a young woman walked in carrying a stack of papers. She didn't say anything as she brought them to Boscoe's desk.

"Thank you, dear," he said as he took the stack from her. "Marci, this is Agents Mist and Graham from the FBI. They're asking about the girls who were murdered. This is my daughter, Marci. She's also my secretary."

Marci took one look at Eva and Will and sprinted. Without hesitation they chased after her. She ran out the door only to run smack into another officer.

Marci was taken to FBI headquarters; straight to an interrogation room where Alana Bloom was waiting for her. She was questioned and confessed that she loved Barbies. When she was a kid she had everything Barbie and was excited that her dad went into a profession of creating something close to the real thing. The girls she choice were the closest looking to the dolls. She wanted to play with them. But she always forgot to put them away.

 

***********************************************************************

 

A couple [maybe a few] weeks, and thus a couple of appointments with Claire, went by. During which, Claire talked about her two jobs; the hotel where she'd work the various shifts but worked the afternoon to evening shift most of the time and the diner where she'd worked midnight to six. She'd also talk about her coworkers and how they would either be power mad and take advantage of her and criticize her over everything she did or they would be completely lazy and leave everything for her to do. There was also all the loss she had suffered throughout her life: from her fish to the butterfly she had caught and from grandparents to family friends. It was actually a pretty good sized list for a twenty-eight year old. Of course, the more someone opens up their heart for love, the more it'll get damaged when said love leaves. Which included her parents.

She told Hannibal that shortly after that parents-centered appointment she had tried to call them, but the cell number had been assigned to someone else. She then went to her mother's Facebook to leave a message and that's when she had seen a couple of her mother's friends had posted "R.I.P."s and "we'll miss you"s posted on her wall. Claire contacted a close family friend and found out that her parents had been in a horrible car accident about two weeks before. Nobody had tried to contact her, unless the phone number used came up unknown, then, Claire explained, she would've ignored it because she had a TracFone and couldn't always afford to buy minutes for it therefor she didn't want to risk wasting them telling someone wrong number.

"I don't go to my Facebook that often," her voice cracked as she spoke. "I don't have the time. I should've been on sooner. My mom had left a message for me, days before the accident, on there asking if I was able to visit. I never got it! Why didn't they call?......Why didn't _I_ call them? I screwed up big this time."

For the first time Claire had a full blown emotional breakdown in front of Hannibal. He offered her tissues and looked down as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. It eventually hit her what she was doing and tried to hide it. She got up and turned her back towards him so he couldn't see her face. Hannibal also got up from his chair and walked toward her. And held her close.

'I shouldn't be doing this,' he thought. But Claire had started to grow on him. He enjoyed her company and liked when she was happy, like when she'd tell funny stories about what her pets have done and what she's seen on Tumblr. Besides, anyone in this state could benefit from getting a hug and knowing someone, somewhere cared.

Claire continued to sob into Hannibal's shoulder. She was shaking pretty badly as Hannibal began to gently sway. This lasted about three minutes before she was calm enough to talk to. At which she lifted her head to face him. There were still tears in her eyes, which had turned a bright green.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"For what?" He looked her right in the eyes, even wiped away a stray tear.

"Being emotional."

"There's no need to be sorry for that. You lost your parents. You were close to them and there were unresolved issues. Even the strongest of souls would have a hard time keeping an emotional control."

She nodded as she wiped away another tear.

The next appointments Claire was quiet. She'd answer any questions Hannibal would ask her, but she wasn't talking a hundred miles an hour about everything like she had before.

"Claire, I must express a concern," his concern had finally got the best of him. "Are you thinking about taking your own life?"

Claire's eyes widened. She looked up at him and nodded her head. Her folded ponytail bobbed a little.

The concern came over Hannibal's face slightly. Many people probably wouldn't even notice, but Claire did.

"I'm not going to." It was the loudest she'd been in a while. "The thought has occurred to me numerous times. But it's never been serious enough to act on. Even now."

"Why?"

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but quickly closed it and shook her head.

After a moment, "I don't know.....I can't think of a single good thing that is left in my life and yet, I'm still going through with it. Maybe, I'm just too much of a chicken to do anything."

"Or," Hannibal offered. "You believe something good will eventually happen. Hope keeps you here."

Her eyes were wide again. "Oh, my God! I think you're right...."

He flashed his halfy smile at her. Of course he was right.

As time went on, Claire recovered over the loss of her parents and was yacking on like she had in the beginning. Hannibal really didn't mind it. They would have some pretty intelligent conversations which included politics and even religion. She had established herself as someone who wasn't clueless or dumb, which he really liked. But what he really liked about her, or at least what was his hypothesis, was that the more he listened to her the more he saw that even though life was so unkind to her, she found ways to be kind to it. For example, she'd tell stories of the stray cats outside her apartment building that she'd feed. She didn't have much money for herself, but she'd still buy bags of cat food to make sure that those poor creatures wouldn't starve. And Hannibal finally came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to use her for food, but she was heading away from just another patient.

"I noticed you never have you hair down." He finally let his feelings get the best of him on one appointment.

She was standing by the window and she blushed a little. "Well, um...I don't know what to do with it. I love having it long, but it gets in the way. And it's so thick and frizzy...I just don't know how to tame it. Besides, I think it makes my face look fat when it's down." She smiled and stroked her hair which was in an actual ponytail this time.

Hannibal was standing behind her. His hand hovered over the scrunchy. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. As soon as his hand came close she turned slightly to stare at him.

"May I?"

She nodded. And Hannibal worked the scrunchy out. Some hairs came with it. Her hair felt soft. As soon as she felt her hair was lose she shook it out a little and it fell down past her shoulders in red waves. He liked it. Maybe, too much?

"I don't see what the problem is," he said trying to avoid an awkward silence. "You look...just fine with it down."

Again she blushed.

"Doctor Lecter, may I be honest with you?" she turned, facing him completely.

"Of, course."

"I think....I'm developing feelings for you that aren't...well, maybe....not healthy? I guess is the phrase I'm looking for." She glanced at Hannibal. He didn't say anything nor showed any emotion. Claire continued. "I'm sure it's because I've told you everything about me and you're the only real person I talk to. Plus, you seem to care and listen, but you're supposed to--that's what you get paid for. I guess I can't help it. Of course, you're a very good looking guy; that doesn't help."

He smiled as he tilted his head. "Thank you. But that may make your healing difficult. Do you feel that this attraction will hinder your therapy any?"

"I don't want it too."

"It's highly unethical, but if you don't let those feelings get in the way of your healing, then you won't have to go to therapist number eight. In fact, if you're that comfortable with me then you may end up helping yourself more than you could ever imagine."

She smiled.

 

Eventually, without any notice Claire fell into a sadness not unlike what had happened after her parents died.

Hannibal didn't fail to notice. "You're so quiet lately. Is everything alright?"

Claire didn't say anything. She just stared at him. In a way he'd never seen her do before, but it had answered the question.

"You know you can tell me anything. Hiding can only hurt you."

"Not this time." Her voice was stern and her expression turned more scared then anything else.

"What are you hiding, Claire?" He pushed for the answer, but he already had a hint of what was on her mind.

She breathed deeply, thought for a second and confessed. "The other day I couldn't sleep. I went out back of the apartment building for some fresh air. Then I saw a figure run into the woods, with another figure behind it. Normally, I'd know better than to follow them...I've seen Forensic Files and various other shows on Investigation Discovery, I know I could've been putting myself in danger, but curiosity got the best of me. I came across the figures in very small clearing. The first had fallen down. It was a man. He was begging for his life. The other figure said something back....and I recognized the voice......Doctor Lecter, I recognized _your_ voice."

Hannibal and Claire looked at each other, neither showed any emotion. 'Things just got interesting.' The thought passed through his mind.

Claire added, "I saw you kill that guy and take some of his organs. I watched you display that man as if he were some mounted deer head in someone's den." She didn't seem overly bothered, there was a hint of fear in her eyes, but it really wasn't much. "There's only two reasons that I know of where someone would kill someone for their organs. And here's were curiosity wins against my better judgment again....I don't know why, but I have to know...."

She paused and looked Hannibal dead in the eye. The most intense she has ever looked before. Hannibal sat there keeping his poker face.

"Black market organ trade." The words tasted bitter. "Or....cannibal?"

He didn't say a word. His face still didn't reflect what he was feeling, but he was impressed and shocked that she figured it out.

"I assume that you make a lot of money, so doing it for the black market would be more for heroics, which most people would want to brag about. Your silence I take as the organs are for you."

The thought of killing her rushed by, but she may still have some use. "Have you told anyone what you saw?"

She shook her head. "No. I have no one to tell. And I never went to the cops. Nor will I. I'll take your secret to the grave no matter what or when. I guess, I care about you too much. Plus, I'm not even that freaked out about cannibalism. It's abundant in nature. Humans are animals.... It's not for me, but to each their own. It's what makes the world go round."

"Not very smart to confront the suspect."

"I know. I...had to mull it over for bit. And I wanted to know why. Probably, most importantly, I had to know if it was you. To be honest, I really didn't want it to be you. But I guess the next question is....what will you do to me, now that I know?"

'Kill her!' The thought came back. 'Not here. Not now.'

Finally, he spoke, "Nothing."

"But I know. You have my word I'll be quiet, but you don't know if I can be fully trusted." She seemed shocked.

"I know you pretty well, Claire."

The statement confused her.

He smiled, trying to reassure her. "I've grown to like you. Please, if you trust me too, join me for dinner tomorrow. I'll cook something nice."

She just stared again. "I'm kind of picky."

"We'll find something you like."

"I like chicken...beef...not overly big on veggies, but I do like lettuce and peppers...onions are ok...."

"I've got just the recipe."

"I don't eat people."

"That's alright. What time should I expect you?"

"I get off the hotel at ten; don't have to work the diner..."

"Sounds fine to me."

He told her the address and led her out. He wondered what she would do. He wasn't worried about getting caught. He'd come close before, even had a few fingers pointed right at him, but he always had an escape plan.

The phone rang and brought Hannibal back to the there and now.

"Doctor Lecter."

"Doctor Lecter, it's Agent Mist," she said in her strict voice. "Need help on a new case and you're one of the best." She then gave him a rendezvous point.

Hannibal met Eva at a fancy penthouse. The exterior and interior of the building itself was extraordinarily fancy, artsy, and expensive, which contrasted the horror on the top floor that waited for the FBI.

The living space was registered under a city council member who was known for squandering tax money and lying about making life easier for the city dwellers. Everyone wondered why he was still in office, but it was always followed by someone saying that "he probably paid people off". Apparently, someone had had enough of it.

Eva and Hannibal walked into the penthouse and were immediately greeted by a bloody scene with the alderman's body sitting at a table with cash and change scattered around it as the centerpiece. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his hands had been cut off and placed one on top of the other on a small pile of twenty dollar bills on the table. Hannibal walked around the scene and saw that the words "greed" and "lies" had been carved into his back.

"Those were done while he was still alive," Zeller explained as soon as he noticed Hannibal was looking.

"Yes. And those wounds are slightly older than cut-off ones here." Price interrupted and pointed to the alderman's wrists.

"The killer wanted to make sure the alderman knew he was being punished for his political career choices," said Hannibal. "Someone took it upon themselves to stand up for the little man."

"But bleeding out wasn't the cause of death," Zeller added.

"Yeah...his eyes are pointing towards asphyxiation." Price added on in almost an excited tone. "But there's no bruising on the neck, at least that we can see with the naked eye."

Something about the victim's mouth caught Zeller's attention. "Whoa! Where's his tongue?" He sounded disgusted.

Price approached and peered into the orifice too. "Oh, I see it." He grabbed a pair of tweezers, aimed them towards the back of the throat, and pulled something out. Sure enough the alderman's tongue had been cut off as well and shoved in the back of the throat.

Everyone's attention was now on the severed tongue. Hannibal was the first one to make a comment.

"Once upon a time," he began. "A thief would have had their hands chopped off as punishment and liars would have their tongues taken. Our killer is punishing using archaic methods. He's poetic too. By shoving the tongue in the throat, he made him eat his words."

Eva approached him. "Are you able to conclude anything else about this guy?"

"Only, that he must feel that he's doing the world a favor."

"Think I should call Will in?"

"By all means."

Some time later, Will stepped through the door. Hannibal could only add a little light to the scene, but Will had an amazing ability to draw in all the evidence and reconstruct the scene before him. Which is why he was so valuable to the FBI.

He nodded and smiled at Eva but gave Hannibal a look of contempt. Eva brought him up to par, then had everyone back away slightly from the alderman's table.

Will stood there for a second, looked around, and then closed his eyes. He drifted into something of a trance. And spoke, in a voice that almost wasn't his.

"I wait for the alderman to arrive. I let him start to undress, before I reveal myself to him. I approach from behind and give him a whack on the head with a heavy object. It doesn't kill him. Good. I don't want him dead yet." Will walked behind the dead body and performed the actions he was narrating. "I let him regain conciseness before I forever mark him with his sins. He screams. I have to be quick. I take my knife and chop off the hands. I look him in the eye as I begin to take out that which is responsible for so much pain. I make him eat his own words. This is my design."

Will steps back and snaps out of the trance. He shook his head clear. Eva walked up to him. Will turned to face her.

"We need to look for someone big," he explained to her. "The councilman isn't a small guy but he wasn't a pushover either. He put up a good fight, but this killer was a lot bigger than him or at least a lot stronger. Did anyone happen to see anything?"

"Just the security guard got a glimpse of him on one of the monitors as he left the building." Eva's face showed a slight anger. "The guard was the one who made the call. Some of the other tenants heard the screams but ignored it. It seems the alderman enjoyed spending tax payer money on some.....adult activities. No wonder the bastard was married three times."

"Tapes?"

"Got 'em. On their way to being fully analyzed."

"Our killer will strike again. Probably soon."

"And there's enough sinners out there to keep him good and busy too."

***********************************************************************

It was about ten thirty at night by the time Hannibal had finished cooking and the door bell rang. It had to be Claire. Maybe she wasn't as clever as she lead on. Regardless, Hannibal answered the door to his red haired guest. She looked pretty tired.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd make it," he said with a smile as he let her in.

"Sorry, my relief was late," She looked him over. He was wearing one of his suits while she was in t-shirt, black jeans, and a hoodie and she had her hair up in the folded ponytail with strands of hair draped behind her ears. She had her work shirt over her arm. "Wow, I feel a little...under dressed."

"It's quite alright. You're more than welcome to dine with me if you are comfortable. I just so happen to be comfortable in my suits. I take it you're not with your uniform."

"Nope...These shirts get way too hot. And I have to wear them for eight hours and around industrial size dryers. It's not fun."

Claire sat her belongings down and followed Hannibal to the dining room. She looked around and absorbed her surroundings just as she did the day they met. He pulled out her chair and motioned her to sit down. She seemed a little confused, but obliged.

"Not used to that," she blurted out.

He smiled as he pulled out a couple of wine glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Whoa....um....none for me thanks." She raised her hand up to stop him. "I'm not really into alcohol. I've tried. Can't find anything that tastes alright to me. Or that doesn't mess with my stomach."

He looked a little insulted and she returned the look with one of sincere regret.

"My apologies," he stated as he pour himself a glass. "It was rude of me to assume that you had tastes like everyone else. I'll get you some water."

"No apologies necessary, Doctor Lecter. It's pretty rare to find someone who doesn't partake in the grape or grain. You wouldn't believe all the gasps I get when I tell people I've never been drunk. Let alone didn't have the wild parties as a teenager."

He smiled at her again, left the room, and returned with a pitcher of water, which he poured in the glass for her.

"Thank you," she beamed.

He began to serve his meal. "Roasted chicken in raspberry sauce with linguine in an olive oil garlic herb mixture."

She inhaled deeply. "Mmmm....certainly smells divine."

He dished it out for her, then took care of his own plate. He sat down and nodded towards her to dig in. She twirled the pasta around her fork and took a big bite. The closest term to describe the look on her face was orgasmic.

Claire turned her head towards him. "Doctor Lecter, this is fantastic!"

"Thank you." He never could deny a compliment, regardless of the situation. "And you may call me Hannibal. You've expressed your feelings towards me and I've invited you to diner...it seems we're no longer just doctor/patient, that we are more on the friends term. Plus, you know my secret."

She stopped eating and an expression of dread washed over her face.

"It's not what you think. I did promise you that," he tried to reassure her. And he was telling the truth.

"It's not that." She put her fork down on her plate. "It's just....I guess I was hoping we wouldn't bring it up."

"My apologies again, Claire."

He reached out and touched her hand. She half smiled and went back to her meal. She ate like a savage compared to him. But, it's not like she went anywhere that required some kind of eating etiquette.

Hannibal got up from his seat and walked behind her. She hoped he was just getting more or different wine. Maybe, prepping dessert. Something other than what he was really doing. He picked up a lamp that was displayed on a cabinet right behind her. He had thought it through. A good whack on the head would kill her or at least knock her out to where he could harvest her organs. She was right she was a risk now and it was time to restock. She'd be easy. No one would miss her. He raised the lamp up, ready for the blow.......

"Do it...."

That wasn't him thinking it. Claire had said it, just above a whisper but he heard it. He lowered the lamp and moved to the side just enough to see she had stopped eating and was staring at the tray of chicken, which was covered with a reflective silver cover.

"Well.....do it!" She turned to face him.

'This was new...' he thought.

"Doctor Lecter, I know this is why you wanted me here tonight. It's the only reason you _would_ want me here. I knew you wouldn't poison me. You couldn't ruin the livestock like that. So......Do it! Bash my head in. Kill me!" she was almost screaming it, as she began to tear up some.

He'd never had a clear minded, potential kill beg him to do it. They always pleaded to be spared. They ran, they screamed, they fought back even if they deserved it, they felt their life meant something. And he like it. It showed he had power. He almost got off on it; such a rush! The Muralist didn't really put up a fight; he had asked Hannibal to help him became part of his own art, but he was soulless and lost. No one looked him in the eye 100% serious, without fear and asked him to do it.

"What are you waiting for? I want to die and you can make me into something beautiful." She glanced down at her plate. "Please, Doctor!"

Part of him wanted to, but most of him found that he couldn't. What is _it_ with her?

"No." He said softly.

"What!?"

He slammed the lamp on the table. Not overly hard where it hurt anything, but it made Claire jump a little.

He swiped his hand over his forehead and over his hair in actual confusion. Then he pulled a chair close to Claire and sat down. He stared at her. His look was intense. It would've burned through her if she wasn't staring at the reflective cover again. He took a deep breath and gently brushed her hair out of the way and behind her ear. There were tears by now.

He laughed. "Why did you do that?"

Still staring at the cover, she answered,"I don't want to live anymore. I can't take my own life, but you can. And you have a good reason to."

"Then why are you crying? If you knew...."

"Death is scary. Regardless of the circumstances. But, I'm more mad that I'm still here. It's why I came....I'm not _that_ naive."

"You don't deserve to die, Claire." His words caused her to finally look at him. He wiped away her tears once again. "What was it you said when you told me about the strays outside your apartment building?"

She blinked away some more tears as she struggled to remember that conversation. "I'm sure it was something like "if all us lonely souls would come together then we'd realize we aren't so lonely."

He mulled it over, "Claire, you've done nothing to deserve the fate I wanted for you. You are kind and strong even when everything goes wrong. You even, somehow, still see an attraction to me even after you learned the truth about who I am. I can't kill you." Those words felt almost foreign to him.

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "I'm alone too. Maybe, just as alone as you."

She smiled at that. "Really? You're saying...we can be..... friends?"

Hannibal didn't say a word.

"I'd like that." She was sincere. "Even after the other night and now. I accept it. And want your trust."

"Frankly, I think I want that too."

They both smiled awkwardly. And he wiped away one more tear before he got up to return to his plate. The situation shook him up a little, but it didn't ruin his appetite. Claire on the other hand choked hers down. They sat in silence for while.

Eventually, Hannibal asked Claire how her day had been. She told him how people could be so rude and spastic over the prices like she had complete control over it ("Why can't you give me a forty dollar rate?" she'd say mockingly); how the housekeepers would cause trouble, not always on purpose; she even had a funny story about a couple guests, who'd come down to the lobby for coffee but chatted with her about this and that. Somehow after everything, they ended up laughing.

When Claire was done talking about the hotel, she insisted that Hannibal talk about himself. He told her about how he was once a surgeon and that he had other hobbies besides....hunting. He didn't have that many hilarious anecdotes, but she felt he was interesting all the same.

He impressed her further with dessert: some sort of pastry that tasted like heaven. To keep it from going quiet again he gave her an idea on how he made it and where he'd gotten the recipe from. She listened attentively. Soon she realized that it was getting late and that she should go home, get some sleep, prepare for another day at the hotel and then a night at the diner. He walked her to the door.

Before exiting, she faced him again. "I really wanna thank you," she said. "And not just for dinner. For...." She struggled to find the right choice of words.

He interrupted, "I understand. I seem to have given you a gift. Cherish it."

She smiled and blushed. "Thank you," she said again.

They looked at each other for moment and then she did a very brave thing, at least for her. She got real close to Hannibal, stood up on her tip toes (even though she was wearing her high heeled boots), and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Being the shy creature she was, she turned around quickly out of embarrassment. As she walked out the door she looked over her shoulder.

"Good night, Hannibal. I'll see you next week."

"Good night, Claire." He really wasn't expecting that.

He come to the conclusion that no-- he couldn't kill her, that was completely out of the question. But he could still use her. He closed the door and headed back to the dinning room and kitchen to clean up before going to bed.

***********************************************************************

Eva Mist's phone rang some time in the early morning. "Mist." It came out more grumbled than she meant it to.

"We got another one," announced the voice over the phone.

Within minutes, she was ready and on her way to the crime scene, this time an abandoned store, but the bloody set up was familiar.

Standing among some mannequins dressed in old imitation fur coats, was a dead woman. She was dressed in an old fashioned dress. If she was alive and heading somewhere, one might've thought she was on her way to church. Quite the contrast to the mannequins who, if they were real people, looked ready for a night on the town.

"Who's are victim?" Mist asked as she looked from the body to pool of blood on the floor.

"We are looking at 21-year old, Tina Meese," Price read from a notebook. "She was reported missing four days ago by her roommate."

"Decomp says she's been here about that long," Zeller added.

"Tina Meese? What kind of name is that?" Mist asked in a tone that was more disgusted than confused.

Price continued. "Not real. She was a stripper at a club about three blocks away from her apartment. She was also known to do a bit of prostitution. Passed through the PD a couple of times."

"Must of got her on her way to or from work. Since stripper/prostitute can I guess the same perp as the alderman case?"

Zeller's turn. "Yep! Under the dress, on her back we have "Lust" and "Pride" carved and while she was still alive...."

"Pride? I understand lust, but...."

Price: "She's a natural beauty. Didn't even have implants. She was the main attraction at the strip club. Loved to flaunt what she was born with. Made lots of enemies at the club with her ego. Also, made lots of money."

Eva thought back to the alderman again. "The alderman was punished for his greed and lies, do I wanna know what our "vigilante" did to her?"

"For her lust, he sewed up her vagina, anus, and mouth. She wasn't shy about her "full package deal"." Price cringed a little as he continued. "Her pride: he started by washing her makeup off. Then, he gave her an amateur breast reduction, which caused her to bleed out, and slashed her cheeks, cut her hair, and made her wear something more modest."

With a stern look, Eva gave her orders. "This sicko is wasting no time in his punishments and is doing his research on these people. We need to find out if our victims had reported any type of stalker worries or anything out of the ordinary at all; find out how close he's getting. At this point, I'll take anything from anyone: coworkers, friends, family, neighbors, landlords, 911 calls or police reports - if they were regulars anywhere I want the workers there too. Anyone could be the next victim. We've got to stop this guy."

The forensic team continued collecting evidence as Eva headed to the office.

 

"There's too much sin. Corruption leads us away from paradise." A cold masculine voice mutters in a closed down church. The face covered by a hood. "Light must be shined upon the hopeless. Those around us tempt us with false torches. Those torches must be extinguished to allow the true lights to shine bright. We do His work. We destroy the demons to protect the innocent from temptation. We do His work well and we get a big reward." A smile sneaked out from under the hood.

The figure rose up from one of the more intact pews and approached the front of the church where a bible and a bunch of photos, newspaper clippings, and notebooks rested on a table. What candles that were left in the building when the church was shut down were lit and placed only around the table which casted an eerie glow on a huge sculptured crucified Jesus. The killer began muttering and crossing out and writing on various things.

"Yes, we earned a day off, didn't we? We must be careful. Don't want to get caught by those who don't see the demons for what they are." The killer looked up at the Jesus statue. "We will do you proud, O Lord."

Again, attention turned back to the papers and the mutters became more audibly prayers.

 

Things were quiet for four days until, Eva, Will, and Hannibal were called to another gruesome scene. This time a soup kitchen. The victim was a heavy set man, somewhere in his thirties, and his body was posed so it looked like he was serving up soup.

"That's Wayne Thompson," Hannibal began. "He owns and runs one of the best restaurants in town. Their was a recent article in the paper."

"I heard a lot of people talk about him," Will added. "Most of them said they'd rather work for Satan himself."

"Oh, really?" Eva challenged.

"Heard he never lifted a finger. One person, actually a few people talked about the day that they were short handed during a dinner rush. He was there for whatever reasons. Didn't bother to lend a hand. Wouldn't call anyone in; wouldn't even pick up a paper and pen. All he did was unnecessarily bark out orders, accusing people of things, and scream at the employees. He would make sure that his place made money, but he wouldn't do a damn thing himself."

"Sloth," Hannibal almost whispered. "And must be gluttony too." He pointed to the mouth erupting with an unidentifiable meal.

"Our killer knew that too," Price confirmed. "Gluttony" and "Sloth" are carved in the back."

"And if you haven't guessed he was force feed to the point he suffocated," Zeller said.

"What of sloth?" asked Eva. "Well, besides making him hand out soup to the less fortunate?"

"We're not sure yet," Price said as he and Zeller both shook their heads.

Will walked around the room and eventually strolled into the kitchen. He scanned the room for clues. He noticed a poorly washed serving bowl and spoon; the only dishes sitting in the drainer.

"Agent Mist," he shouted through the serving window. "What was he force fed?"

She and Hannibal entered the kitchen. "Zeller and Price think it might mashed potatoes or even a green bean casserole. Why? What did you find?"

"Shotty dish washing." He pointed to the bowl and spoon.

"The food that our victim choked on was apparently cooked here," Hannibal chimed in pointing to an empty box in the trash can.

"Instant potatoes then." Price poked his head in through the window. "Easy to carry. Very easy to make for this...type of situation."

"I think we found our sloth punishment. Make him cook his own last meal?"

"First time he'd have to lift a finger in a long time," Will finished.

"Really that's it? Everyone else had something....deadly..." She shook her head. "How do you _make_ someone cook?" Eva asked, slightly confused.

"Maybe, held a gun to his head is all I can think."

"Whatever it was, it was bad enough to scare him into doing it," commented Hannibal. "Or the killer lied about letting him go. It's all assumption until we find him."

"Well, that's why I had you two come here." Eva was starting to sound irritated. "We have three bodies that we know of and almost no leads..."

"He's working off the Seven Deadly Sins," Hannibal began the brain storm. "He thinks he's doing God's work. Maybe, start at the churches."

"Yeah, that narrows it down."

Will awkwardly chuckled as he added to the profile, "After looking at the guy out there, our killer is defiantly a big guy. He knows where to find information about these people. He pays attention to the newspapers; front page and arrest records at least. Most likely, stalks them to learn more about them/learn the right time to grab 'em. Did you find out if there were any suspicion from the victims?"

Eva shook her head. "They didn't report anything to police or said anything to friends."

"He knows how to blend and avoid leaving anything overly damning behind. He's gonna make it very difficult to find him."

 

The next day, Eva met with Price and Zeller in the morgue. They had found something.

Price started off, "We found a knife at the alderman's home. It's what was used to carve him and cut off his hands and tongue. There was also a partial finger print on it. It's not enough to find any matches."

Zeller added, "There was enough to know it _wasn't_ the alderman's. The Slayer wiped the knife down with one of those special lens or computer screen wipes after he was done."

"We also found out their sins are not the only thing that he carved into them. There's a tiny dove on each of their necks."

"Oh, we found out the gruesome punishment for sloth." Zeller lead Eva and Price to metal container. "The entrepreneur had live snakes forced down his throat before the food." Of course they were dead now and he lifted one up using a pair of surgical tongs.

"Mmmmm....snakes with a mashed potato chaser." Eva looked disturbed. "What kind of snakes are they?"

"Simple garden snake. Very common," Price chimed.

"Lovely, I was hoping something rare and possibly traceable. Thanks, guys. Keep up the good work." She patted Price on the shoulder before she left the room.

The team went back to work.

 

Wednesday arrived. Claire sat in Hannibal's office and discussed how horrible her co workers were. And not just the hotel ones, but also at the diner.

"The owner's son is such a creep," she said as she shuddered. "He comes in smelling like booze and he gets verbally abusive...and loud. That's probably why his dad makes him work the late shift. I hate it when he works with the grill. I'm scared one of these days he'll catch the place on fire or at least catch his own breathe on fire."

"Have you said anything to the owner?" Hannibal asked her with concern.

"Every time I see him. Which isn't that often, considering my schedule." She sighed. "He says that he'll talk to him and "not to worry". Sorry! That ain't gonna happen. When your more alcohol than man and near extreme heat, I'm gonna worry."

She chuckled and he smiled at her.

"Have you ever thought about reporting him to the Better Business Bureau?"

"My mom suggested that, but the more I thought about it the more the fear of the place shutting down and me losing that job stopped me. Jobs are hard to find especially middle of the night jobs that don't conflict with my hotel schedule. Yeah, my mom also told me that good bosses will work with you on that. Yeah, but for how long? Pee-ons don't get an over abundance of respect, and I am a professional." Again, she smiled at Hannibal but this time he didn't smile back. So she continued. "It's just.....I really need the money, Hannibal. I can't risk _not_ having that paycheck."

He grimaced at her. "Even if it means risking your life?"

"I wish I could say "no". If I lose one paycheck then I can't afford help anymore and I put my psyche at risk. And I'm scared I'll fall into a darkness that I can't get out of again. I don't wanna know how far I can fall into that."

"Darkness. That's how you describe your depression."

"Yes. I got it from a video game called "Alice: Madness Returns". It's basically Alice in Wonderland. The twist is her family died in a fire and her Wonderland became tainted by a darkness that was based off the therapies she went through. It really feels like that. Just a wave of dark over my happy thoughts... It really is a good game."

Hannibal let her words sink in while he looked her over and noticed she seemed a little more bright eyed this time, even though she looked really tired. He also didn't fail to notice that she had her hair down. He asked her "Why?" almost hoping it was for him.

"Honestly, I over slept and completely forgot to grab a scrunchy. I didn't even brush it," she stated.

He remembered her hair was wet when she first got there. It curled as it dried. "It really looks nice."

She blushed. She really wasn't used to complements.

They turned their conversation to current events.

"Are you worried about the Deadly Sins Slayer?" He seemed worried.

"Just a little but only because I'm not an angel," she answered. "But I'm not a serious sinner either. I've never killed anyone, I'm not a hooker, or a thief. Try not to be greedy or gluttonous. Maybe a little slothful in the religious sense. Oh, crap!" Her eyes got big. "Wrath---I'm angry with the world. That's why I love animals and I _hate_ humans. Don't get me started."

"As long as you don't going around telling everyone, you should be alright."

"That's true. Like I said I'm a professional pee-on. You don't make the papers for that type of career."

"For not being religious, you know what you're talking about."

"I like to find flaws in people's logic and then use it against them." She flashed a very mischievous smile.

Hannibal liked that.

"I'll admit," she added. "I'm no expert, but at least I have the balls to admit."

He flashed her a smirk. He wouldn't admit it to her, at least right there, but he was worried the Slayer would find out about her somehow and punish her next. He wasn't ready to let her go. Not yet, anyway.

 

A few days later Eva Mist was called to another crime scene: a butcher shop's meat freezer. Hannibal and Will followed her into the shop. The scene wasn't bloody this time, but it literally brought a chill to everyone who was working on it. The victim was hung up on meat hook and frozen. It appeared the killer had brought a hose and sprayed her with water until she froze. She was fully clothed and even had her glasses still on. The word "envy" was carved in her back and, now that they were aware of the Slayer's calling card on the victims, the dove on her neck.

"And this time we have...." she lead the team.

"19 year old, social network junkie, Barb Clark," Zeller answered. "She disappeared two days ago. Killed sometime after she was taken."

"Her friends suggested to the police to keep an eye on her user name on Twitter," Price took over. "She went by @ClarkBar1000. They said she was always whining about something; was jealous of everyone for everything. She Tweeted constantly. And when she wasn't Tweeting she was texting or on her phone. The Slayer must've over heard her."

Eva turned to Will and Hannibal. "Well, you two. Anything to add?"

"He turned down the temp in here," Will said. "I've been in my share of meat storage for similar reasons and it's never been this cold. He made sure she'd freeze quickly."

"Yea, the thermostat has been turned down as low as it goes." Zeller checked as soon as Will announced the deduction. He began dusting it for fingerprints.

"Why freeze her?" Eva's voice was that of a person who was done with the psycho's shenanigans.

Hannibal was ready with the answer. "In Hell, those guilty of envy are punished by being placed in freezing water." He pondered, "Our killer didn't bring anything with him, did he?"

She shook her head. "The owner said it's his hose and one of his knives that the Slayer used."

"He didn't at the other scenes either," he paused, letting the realization sink in. "It's possible that he doesn't own anything. I think, he maybe homeless."

"Plenty of homeless people. Defiantly, makes it easy to blend in. If he mumbles, even a crappy wardrobe, it's easily written off." Eva thought for a minute and then added, "We're checking your church theory, Doctor Lecter. Should have word any time now."

 

The Seven Deadly Sins Slayer went dormant, as Wednesday once again arrived. But this time Hannibal was alone in his office. Ten o'clock in the morning and Claire had not arrived and had not called to cancel or to announce she'd be late. Again, he found himself admitting to something he never thought possible, he was worried about her. Did the Slayer find out about her? He hadn't punished anger yet.

He went through the day with other appointments and by closing, she still hadn't called or showed up. By this time he decided he was going to pay her a visit.

He arrived at her building and went up to her apartment number. He didn't hear anything, not a TV or voices or radio, as he knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, and then a third, then forth time. All unanswered. He panicked a little. He was very tempted to either pick the lock or kick the door in. Then he remembered that she liked to go out back to feed the stray animals.

He found his way to the back door. To his relief, there she was sitting on the step, with about a dozen cats around her. She jumped a little as the door behind her opened.

"Oh," she gasped. "Hannibal? What are you doing here."

She scooted over a little to let the door open and didn't move back over when he stepped completely out side. He sat down on the step beside her.

"You missed your appointment and didn't call," he lectured her.

"Yea, sorry. I worked second shift AND the diner last night. I didn't wake up until seven something, thanks to my phone dying while I slept. By the time I found my charger and woke up enough to be coherent, I figure it was too late to call. I'm paying for it regardless, because of your cancellation policy. Can't reschedule or anything anyway. Just didn't see a good reason to waste my minutes." She had her head resting in her hand.

"You still should have called."

She looked at him and smiled a little, slightly blushing. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"

He didn't say a word.

"It's nice to know someone cares," she commented as an orange tabby approached to be petted.

She smiled as she ran her hand over the feline's back. A couple other of the cats noticed and approached wanting the attention too.

"I'm sure these guys care too," Hannibal told her as he too began to pet a cat. "So, these are the animals I've heard so much about?"

"Yep. Tonight I cleaned out my fridge and gave them the leftovers I didn't eat."

He noticed a plate with various food stuffs on it. He turned to look at her, again with a lecturing look on him. "Ahhh, waste. A pet peeve of mine."

A slight look of panic hit her. "What? No. It's not waste. Something's eating it, right? How is that wasting? Especially, when it's homeless, hungry creatures. Even throwing it in the woods isn't really wasting. If the animal's don't eat it, then it decays into the ground, which gives nutrients to the trees and grass and flowers. Throwing it in the trash is wasting; giving it back to nature is not."

Slightly impressed with her passion, he smiled and nodded in approval. She smiled back. He enjoyed it when she smiled.

As they sat there and chatted a raccoon approached the plate. Claire turned her attention towards the creature. It looked at her and then began to dine with the cats.

"As long as you behave yourself, you can stay," she told it. "He's come around here before. Only, messed with the cats once and I had to chase him away. Friendly little thing, most of the time, really. I know you're not supposed to approach wild or stray animals and that if a wild animal seems too friendly it may have rabies. I should be worried, I suppose, but I'm not. It approached me one day while I was petting these guys. I didn't even realize I was petting a coon! It was the craziest thing." She smiled at Hannibal.

He could see in her eyes she was thrilled with the experience. She felt him analyze her and smiled more.

"Watch this." Her smile went mischievous as she reached down to a bag with two bad apples in it and grabbed one. She made a gentle, ticking noise with her tongue and called out to the raccoon. It turned in an understanding and approached them. She held out the apple. Claire saw, out of the corner of her eye, Hannibal tense up a little as the wild animal came closer. It sniffed the fruit as it carefully watched Hannibal.

"It's ok. Take it. We won't hurt you," she almost sang to it. Again, it seemed to understand as it reached out and took the treat from Claire's hand. She smiled as it walked away. "I hope it never turns real mean."

Hannibal had to ask a question that was burning in the back of his mind. "How, after everything that has happened to you, can you still have a kind heart? Most of my patients that are like you have become so bitter, but you..."

She looked down as she smiled, before answering, "I don't want anyone to be as miserable as me. So, if I say something that's slightly hypocritical, that's why? No one should hate themselves like I hate myself."

They watched the cats eat and mingle. Claire commented on the beautiful summer night and how it wasn't too hot and the sky was clear enough to see some stars. She loved nights like that.

She smiled at Hannibal and he smiled back. And almost as if they were speaking telepathically, Claire, felt it was ok to lower her head on Hannibal's shoulder. Even though he knew he was treading on an unethical patient/doctor relationship, he leaned his head on hers.

He could smell the shampoo and conditioner in her hair as he began to think he knew why he felt that she was something to him; she was his opposite. He had a traumatic past he never spoke of, let alone ever dare try to remember and he had turned into what everyone calls a monster (well, if they knew it was him doing those horrid deeds). But then there's Claire. Outcasted at young age, relationship problems, parents died tragically and with unresolved issues...and yet, she followed rules and laws, helped people and animals. Even, overlooked his taboo life style. She once told Hannibal that she didn't like killing spiders even though she was terrified of them. She felt they had a place in this world and it wasn't her duty to take it from them. So angry with the world and with feelings of no reasons to live and yet, she still shined. The light to his dark.

They stayed in that position for awhile; just watching the animals eat.

 

On Thursday, Hannibal got the call he'd been waiting for. Eva had their lead.

A man had attempted to become a reverend, but didn't make it do to mental health issues. It was reported that the gentleman had become very unstable after being denied what he said was his "reason to be". He felt that the church was ran in such a sin it could only be cleansed in fire, so he tried to burn the place down. Only, parts of it had completely burnt by the time the fire department put the blaze out. The man had put up no fuss when he was arrested and served the minimum sentence in prison, five years. Hannibal suggested to Eva that if he was correct in his hypothesis of the Slayer being homeless, they may find him there since the place would be cleansed.

They arrived at the burnt and abandoned church. Before going in Eva called a couple of agents in for back up, just in case. Then they got out of the car and walked up to the door.

"Will, should be on his way," she told Hannibal while getting her gun ready.

She opened the door and went in first, checking to make sure there wasn't anyone to the sides or directly in front of them. When she felt it was safe enough, she motioned to Hannibal to follow. They walked up to the table at the front of the church and looked over all the papers that were scattered about it. From the looks of it he was stalking his next victim: a man who wasn't quiet about his anti-gay views. "Anger" was marked on a picture from the newspapers.

Eva looked at Hannibal before she scanned the rest of the front of the church. When out of no where a figure appeared out of the shadows, brandishing a fire poker. He caught her off guard and was able to smack her gun out of her hand. He was fast and ended up knocking her out with a heavy whack to the head. It was a good thing the hook side was facing away from her skull.

The Slayer and Hannibal seemed to notice each other at the same time. As the Slayer charged at him with the fire poker raised he grabbed one of the candelabras and was able to block the attack. They both were strong fighters. Hannibal swung the candelabra trying to hit the killer in the head to knock him out like he did Eva and the killer had his weapon aimed at Hannibal's head, this time making sure the deadly part was aimed the right direction.

They did a sort of sword fight, which eventually lead to the Slayer's hood falling back, revealing a heavy set face. He wore glasses, had a goatee, and his blue eyes burned with evil. The fight continued until the Slayer finally caught Hannibal off balance and pined him against the table. Hannibal tried his damnedest to use the candelabra to keep the fire poker away from his throat. The whole time the Slayer kept mumbling about "sinners this" and "punishment that" while constantly referring to himself as "we".

Hannibal was losing stamina fast. The Slayer was portly, but strong and Hannibal couldn't keep his weight off of him for very long. Just when it seemed like the poker was about to pierce his skin, the church which once rang with chapel bells now rang with the sound of a gunshot.

Stunned the killer turned around to see Will, half way to the front of the church, pointing a gun at him. The killer muttered something and raced towards Will at the speed and anger of a raging bull. Will had dealt with this before but it always seemed to lead to killing the bad guy, but not this time. He aimed his gun strategically and hit points that would temporally paralyze rather than kill. It brought the Slayer down. He laid there bleeding and crying while repeating "no" and "we failed".

Eva started coming to and Hannibal had gotten off of the table, checking to see how close the poker actually came to his neck.

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal gasped.

Will only smiled at him and went to check on Eva as the back up finally arrived.

 

The following Wednesday, Claire arrived for her appointment. She looked grim.

"Is everything all right, Claire," Hannibal asked her.

"I don't know."

He motioned her to come in and sit down. She declined sitting down. He gave her a questioning look.

"The last time I saw you got me thinking...about how I feel about you," she stammered. She seemed to have return to the shyness level she had when they first met. "I don't know if I feel attracted to you because you're my psychiatrist and know stuff about me that I don't share with others; or it's because you're the first person in long time to be kind to me, but that's your job--to a point; or it's because you spared me; or because of your...hobby; or it's a legit attraction: that I find you interesting and handsome." She was blushing a little.

He sat down. "What are you saying, Claire?" he seemed almost hurt.

She decided to sit down after all. "Doctor Lecter, I think I should see another psychiatrist." She seemed close to crying. "But, and feel free to say this is a bad idea, if I can't get you off my mind within, like, a month, I'll feel it's for legit reasons and I wanna see you again. But not as my doctor."

She looked at him and bit her lip. He looked back at her and absorbed what she had said. He thought about it.

They sat in an awkward silence for awhile. Finally, he took a deep breathe and said, "If you feel that's what needs to be done. I can recommend one of my colleagues. I think you'll like him."

She nodded as he wrote down a name and number on a piece of paper from his notebook. She looked it over and nodded.

She had to add, "You're secret will still be safe with me. It'll always be safe."

He felt her sincerity and nodded.

She got up to leave and as she passed him, he grabbed her arm. It made her jump slightly, but she slowly turned her head towards him. He looked up at her.

"You be careful and don't change. Get the help you need. The world does need people like you out there." Hannibal just couldn't hold that in anymore.

He could see that she was almost in tears. "I'll do my best."

He let go of her arm, got up from the chair, and lead her to the door, holding it open for her. She was just out the door when she turned to face him.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

"You're more than welcome, Claire," he beamed at her.

Smiling, she stuck out her hand for a handshake. "Goodbye, Doctor Lecter."

He took her hand in his, not to shake it but to kiss the top of it. "Goodbye, Ms. Dove," he said once he released it.

She walked away and Hannibal felt his heart sink a little. He shook his head to bring himself out of it. He knew better, and had never before (with the exception of Will) let a patient get to him like she had. He had to convince himself it wasn't going to happen and that it should never happen again.

 


	2. Crema Catalana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only does Claire's and Hannibal's relationship grow, but Claire learns more about the man she's fixated with

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give any Will fans a bit a thrill in this one.

That Sunday, Hannibal received a phone call from Eva and met her and Will at the scene. They had found a body; the fifth one in two days. The local police were stumped and had turned the investigation over to the FBI. The bodies were being left in their cars parked in dark and obscure places: back alleys, parking lots, out back of closed shops. The victims were all male and were robbed.

"Alright gang," Eva began again. "What are we looking at?"

"A John," Price bluntly stated.

"And we don't mean that that's his real name." Zeller held up a condom wrapper in an evidence bag. "When his real name was ran through it resulted in a number of arrests for picking up hookers."

"Well, that's a start. Our perp is a prostitute." She looked over the rather clean crime scene. There wasn't a speck of blood anywhere. "Now the questions left are Why? How? Male? Female? Where are they?"

Will noticed a dirty syringe laying near the victim's stomach. "Let's start with "how?" Whatever was in that syringe there. If it's not his then his lady of the evening must be either diabetic or a drug addict."

Price stepped in, "Well, the autopsies of the other victims showed that the Johns had no drugs in their systems, but the syringe had had drugs in them and had been used on them. The cause of death in all of them was ruled embolism."

Hannibal made the next connection. "The syringes were empty."

"Yes. Each syringe found had two sets of DNA: the victim's and then an unknown female. We've run it through our database but nothing has come up."

Zeller added, "All the Johns had their pants pulled up but unzipped/unbuttoned/unbelted and the prophylactic empty but still on. Secretions on all of the condoms all point back to the unknown female."

It was decided that Will should use his gift. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and made himself forget there was anyone else around him as the evidence formed the story in his head.

"I don't know this man and he doesn't know me. He just knows my profession. I have my bag with me. It has everything I need for a good time. I tell him to park here. It's secluded. He thinks it's for pleasure; I know it's for something else. We begin our arrangement. He doesn't notice that I reach into my bag and pull out the empty syringe. He still doesn't notice when I stick him with it and push the plunger. A slight look of surprise comes over his face as he realizes that he's dying. His last breath causes me to climax. I was more expensive than he thought."

 

The days passed and more bodies turned up. Sadly, there weren't any strong leads that went with them. All the crime scenes looked the same. The only variance was the syringe entrance. Sometimes it was the belly; sometimes it was the thigh; one case was even a testicle.

Hannibal had a few cravings of his own and had done a couple killings. Using different disposal techniques to keep suspension at bay. And during one of his meals, as much as he didn't want it to happen, his mind drifted to the night Claire dined with him. He saw the lamp and remembered how he had lifted it with the intent to end her life. He stared at the spot where the platter with the reflective lid had been which made him remember how disappointed she was, but somehow it would make a transition to her laughing over one of the stories they had shared, which brought him to night with the cats.

"If all us lonely souls would come together then we'd realize we aren't so lonely," she had said to him. It made him miss her.

But he still had Will who had been very vigilant about making his appointments. He enjoyed his sessions with Will, especially since he had shaped him into something almost like himself.

Will was cunning and smart and knew his job well. And he was vengeful. Every time they'd meet, he glared at Hannibal with a look of death and expressed his murderous feelings. Expect for the one appointment, where Will seemed concerned.

"Doctor Lecter, you seem oddly bothered today," he had said.

Hannibal shook his head and did his best to hide. "Don't worry about me, Will. What's on my mind doesn't really concern you."

Will smiled. "Now, now, Doctor. They say it's good to let it out."

"This is _your_ session, Will. Not mine."

Will dropped the subject and turned the conversation to the killer prostitute. They discussed the evidence but nothing was clicking.

The next day, Eva called in Will and told him that they finally got their break. A security camera outside of a store had been placed in just the right spot that it not only picked up the victim's face, but also their killer. Now, it was just a matter of finding her for arrest.

That night Will and various undercover agents hit the streets to try and find her. Will was the lucky one to find her on a street corner. He called Eva before he parked his car, got out, and confronted her. Leading her to believe that he was interested in her services. He kept her distracted while Eva sneaked up behind and cuffed her, while reciting the Miranda Rights.

They brought her in and had Alana interview her. The girl, whose name was Georgette Summer, put on a ditzy blonde act, even though she had black hair and was in her late forties.

"Let's get down to it," Alana said bluntly. She was obviously irritated with the ditzy blonde routine. "Why'd you do it?"

Georgette giggled. "Cause, I'm pretty and I love sex. I'm so good at it."

"No. No, Georgette, I meant, why did you kill all those men?"

"Oh! That? I didn't mean to. They were drug users and asked me to shoot them up while we were doing it. They even told me how much to use."

"Funny. None of them were into drugs before meeting you." Alana really wasn't trying to hide her disdain towards this woman.

"Are you trying to say the syringes were mine? I'm not into that."

Will, Eva, and Hannibal were watching from behind a two way mirror.

Will muttered under his breath, "Don't loose your cool, Alana."

"Your DNA was on the tips of the syringes. Meaning you would have to have used them at some point. Considering there was once drugs in them and you're the one who is able to talk with me...well, what does that say?"

Suddenly, Georgette dropped the ditzy act. "I want a lawyer."

With that, Alana said "ok" and left.

 

The month finished out normal enough; then a week. When finally, one night, Hannibal was at his house preparing a meal (and yes, it was people) when he heard a knock at his door. It was about ten thirty and he wasn't expecting anyone. He was at a safe stopping point where it would be hard to tell whether the meat was from people or animals.

He wiped his hands as he headed to the door. He opened it to a surprise. There standing before him was Claire. Her hair was completely down and she dressed nicely; something other than a t-shirt and jeans, but not overly fancy. It even looked like she had lost some weight.

"Claire?" he was seriously shocked.

"Hi." Her voice was slightly shaky. "May I come in?"

He smiled and bowed slightly as he said, "Of course." A small whiff of perfume hit Hannibal as she passed him. "Perfume? That's not like you."

She smiled and blushed, "I had tested Lady GaGa's perfume at the store the other day and fell in love with the scent. It's not overly powerful and girly. I had some extra money this last payday and decided to get it. I take it you don't like it?"

He'd admit it wasn't his favorite scent, at least right now, but he didn't want to say anything like that like her, "It suits you."

He escorted her to the dining room and had her sit down.

"Have you eaten yet?" He asked her as he poured her a glass of water. "I've made myself something, but I can whip up a salad or something for you."

"I just got off work so, no, I haven't eaten yet. I don't want to be bothersome, I just stopped by to chat, but a salad does sound pretty good right now," she took a sip of water. "To be honest I figured you'd shoo me away. I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not. I'll enjoy the company."

He finished preparing his meal and put it in the oven. He would take care of her salad when his was done. Then he went to join Claire in the dining room. She was staring out the window when he walked in. He took the seat not at the head like he had before but the one across from her.

"How did Doctor Salem work out for you?" He asked her.

"He's pretty helpful. Doesn't believe in meds so there's a plus," she smiled again. "And without giving him too many details about who, he convinced me to come here."

Hannibal remembered their last exchange, "I take it you couldn't stop thinking about me?"

"I tried, but for some reason I couldn't let you go. You were all I could think of. Oh, God, that sounds creepy."

She smiled, blushed, shook her head as she lowered it. Hannibal almost laughed.

"I have to admit," he had to tell her. "You've come across my mind too."

She snapped her head up quickly. "Really?" He nodded. "I honestly thought about not coming over. But Doctor Salem convinced me that even if I was rejected it'd be better than wondering what if."

They spent some time catching up. She told him about how the work places were about the same and she still didn't have friends and she talked about how she hadn't really forgiven herself for her parents, but Doctor Salem helped her do so. He told her about what had been going on in his life and even took the chance to comment on her physique to which she replied she had found out a near by gym did a freebee night once a week and she couldn't resist. He eventually checked the time and saw that his meal should've been ready. He got up, went to the kitchen, and took it out of the oven. He then made a salad for Claire while the dish cooled. He remembered the things she said she didn't like.

When he finished, he took the food out to the table. He watched her take a bite to see the reaction on her face. Once again, it was almost an orgasmic expression.

"Mmmmm, that is good," she complemented him. "I'm not even that big on salads and I'd be willing to live off this. What's the dressing? I taste garlic, a hint of lemon, oh and pepper." Her enthusiasm amused him. She then looked at his plate. "Do I wanna know what you're dining on?"

"It's [insert some fancy dish that is made traditionally with animal organs/probably contains the organ name in the title]," he beamed. He was almost trying to impress her, but the look on her face said she was grossed out.

She noticed his reaction to her reaction and defended herself, "I don't care where the organ comes from, there'd be no way I could stomach it. You're definitely a braver soul than me." She smiled at him. It was the most he'd ever seen her smile.

"So there's no way you'd try a bite?" He joked with her. She shook her head rather quickly as she giggled a "no". He couldn't help but smile. It was nice to have someone truly accept his lifestyle. "So, you're brave enough to confront me, but not brave enough to try new foods."

"Yep. Although, it might be more of upsetting someone or wasting the food or money if I don't like it. Or it could just simply be that I feel organs outside the body are gross. Not sure." She took a bite of food as she finished her sentence. Then she added, "I never did enjoy dissecting in school."

Hannibal nodded in understanding. "Well, it's not for everyone."

They finished up their meals and talked some more. In fact they ended up talking until two in the morning. Claire almost went into a panic and felt she had over stayed her welcome when she saw it was that late, but he had calmed her down by telling her it was not big deal that she had stayed that long. She was still going on about it while he escorted her out.

"I just...I can't believe.... are you sure it's all right? I'm not keeping you up too long or anything?" she spoke incredibly quick.

He smiled and continued to reassure her,"It's fine, Claire. I'm awake at this time anyway. It was nice to have some company tonight."

"You're sure?"

"Claire."

She backed down. "Ok. Thank you, for dinner."

"You are more than welcome." She stood there for a bit, just smiling at him. "Is there something else on your mind, Claire?" He knew the answer.

"No...well....yes," she looked down as she blushed but then looked up at him again. "It's gonna sound ....sappy." He gave her an expression that told her to let it out. "I'm...I'm really glad you didn't turn me away tonight. I really like you, even with your different tastes and hobbies. It's so nice to have a more intelligent and mature conversation with someone now and then. I'll admit to not being the smartest or most mature person in existence, hell, I'll even start the crude jokes. But it gets tiring after a while." She was still blushing. "It's also...you seem to really care when I talk. You listen or at least can act very well like you are. And you're interesting and charming--" She paused. His expression hadn't changed. She took a deep breathe. "I really want to add more but it'll just sounding creepy or repetitive or....dammit, I'm terrible at this."

He raised a hand to stop her. "You don't have to continue. I understand. And whenever you need to talk, my door is always open to you."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Really."

"Awesome." Her eyes sparkled with something more she either wanted to say or do. But she didn't give into whatever it was. "Good night, Hannibal."

As she turned to walk away he grabbed her arm and quickly, but gently he pulled her towards him. He placed a hand on her face and guided her to a kiss on the lips. At first she tensed up in surprise but within a second of realizing what he was doing she relaxed. It lasted for just a few seconds but it felt like minutes.

He pulled away from her, but didn't remove his hand from her face. For the first time she looked him right in the eye for more than just a split second. There was a happiness in there he hadn't really seen before. He wasn't sure what he was thinking and he wasn't sure if it was a great idea to let this feeling come over him, but that sparkle, almost made it worth it. Plus, he hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Finally, Claire spoke, "You just-" She was giggling.

"I did." He smiled back at her.

He had thrown her off guard; she couldn't gather her thoughts. "I---I need to go home now." She was still giggling as he let her go. She turned to leave. "I'll see you later."

"Yes. Good night. Drive safely, Claire."

"I will," she said as she walked backwards and waved. He was a little worried that she was going to trip.

 

The next day around ten forty at night Hannibal decided to pay Claire a visit. He had never seen her apartment and now that they were taking their relationship a step further he felt he'd learn about her in her own space. He knocked on the door. Immediately there was slight thudding as she approached the door. The thuds stopped and maybe two seconds later there was the sound of a lock being turned.

Claire stood before Hannibal in a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt with some band name on it. Her hair up in her trademark half pony tail. "Hannibal? Hey, what up?" she asked.

"Thought I'd stop by for visit," he said while nodding his head as a hint to be let in.

"Oh. Um. Ok? Come in. Excuse the mess. I don't ever get company so my crap's kind of everywhere." She looked down at what she was wearing as Hannibal passed her. "Oh, yeah. I'm totally dressed for company."

"Please, you don't have to change on my account. It is your home: be comfortable." He smiled at how awkward she could make things. He then took a look around at the studio apartment around him. For one, looking for a place to put his coat to which Claire just pointed at the back of a chair and for two to take in the clutter around him.

Claire's apartment wasn't overly messy but it wasn't spotless either. It was defiantly the space of a bachelorette. There were some wrappers from snacks sitting on end table near the pull out couch. A pile of dirty clothes in a clothes basket sat in a corner. One wall had some magazine clippings of celebrities tapped to it while the rest were sprattically decorated with miscellaneous pictures of animals and scenery, a calendar, and some wall decor from catalogs. There were shelves every where and they were filled with DVDs, CDs, nick-nacs, and books. The couch had been pulled out and the mattress had been made like she was ready for bed. It was covered not only with sheets, blankets, and a single pillow, but it had quite a few stuffed animals on it.

"If you want I can put the mattress in and you can sit down on the actual couch," she said as Hannibal stared at the couch.

"You don't have to if you don't mind me sitting on your bed," he told her.

"If you want to sit there...by all means."

Hannibal made himself comfy on the bed, making Claire giggle a little, and looked around some more. In front of the bed was an older, bulky TV on a small stand. Hooked up to it and sitting on a shelf on the stand was an XBox 360 complete with a Knect. A few loose DVDs or games were sitting on it. Next to it was one of those digital antenna boxes. He turned his head and saw that she had just the one chair sitting at a little table just outside of the kitchen area, which had the fridge, stove, and a little counter space. The living space was certainly a contrast to his.

"You want anything to drink?" Claire asked as she went to the fridge. "I've got water, Diet Dr. Pepper, milk, juice..."

"Guess it's my turn to take a water," he smiled at her.

She smiled and nodded as she grabbed a can of soda and a bottle of water.

"I've got water enhancers if you want to add some flavor," she added as she handed over the bottle.

"This is fine."

"Sorry, I don't have anything fancier." The apology seemed to not only refer to the drinks, but her whole life.

"The apology is unnecessary, Claire. This is you. This is what I want to see. You don't need to change anything for me."

She blushed as she sat down and started to fiddled with a stuffed raccoon. "You don't have to for me either. So, you must've been bored to want to come over here."

"Do I have to be bored to want to visit someone I care about? You probably don't want me staying long since you were getting ready for bed."

"No. I usually come home from work and put my night clothes on. Well, that's if I don't work the diner, which I don't tonight. And this couch is always in this position. Like I said I don't have anyone over so there's no sense putting it away." She leaned back so she was laying perpendicular to Hannibal while her feet where over the edge of the bed. She looked up at him while she talked. "So if you wanted, you can stay really late."

"Do you want me to stay late?" He smiled at her. He felt her antics were kind of adorable.

"I honestly wouldn't mind it." She smiled back at him. "Have you eaten yet? I make some mean tacos. Make my own seasonings. I can also do chicken or pasta or pizza? Have you ever had bubble pizza? They're good."

As much as he didn't enjoy having someone else cook for him, let alone possibly use anything canned or frozen, he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Which one is the most from scratch?" he asked.

A look of puzzlement came over Claire's face. "That would be the tacos. The way I season it is just a can of tomatoes, chopped garlic and onion, um, a dash of chili powder, beef bouillon, and lots of peppers. I like it hot. Can you handle it?"

He wasn't enthused but he'd suck it up for her. "Sounds fine. You know, I'm making an exception tonight. I'm very careful about what I eat and I cook my own meals."

"I'm not surprised. You can say no if you want. You don't have to eat my food."

He reached down and stroked her hair. "I'm making an exception tonight. Wow me."

She smiled and got up from the bed to begin cooking. She cooked her meat and threw in all the ingredients. About an forty/forty five minutes later the meat was ready and she was getting out the toppings.

"You get to top the way you want it. You know, since I don't know what you like," she explained as she topped her own tacos.

They couldn't be any more opposite when it came to their food. Hannibal had just a little bit of meat in his shell and put lots of lettuce and some sauce on it. He did it so their was nothing spilling out on the plate. Claire on the other hand had topped hers with cheese, lettuce, french fried onions, ranch, and taco sauce. They were so stuffed they were just erupting with colors.

She watched Hannibal take a bit. He had to admit, even though it was not his cooking it was pretty good. She had potential. Maybe, he'd show her a thing or two around the kitchen.

"It's not bad, Claire," he told her. Her eyes glistened the awkwardness she got with complements. "One of these nights when you're at my house I should show you a few cooking techniques."

"That sounds like fun," she beamed.

The talked and ate and when they were done, he helped her with the dishes. He was legitimately trying to get them done but Claire was in a playful mood and kept blowing bubbles at him. At first he was irritated with her but eventually he'd just splash some water at her. Which would send the both of them into the giggles.

When that was done, they sat back down on the couch and talked some more. The conversation would go from the books on her shelves to what books Hannibal had to work to politics. They talked about anything that came across their minds. Until, three when Claire dozed off listening to Hannibal talk about mythology. He knew it was coming. She had yawned so much since two thirty and she looked so tired.

So, he gently tucked her in and got up from the couch. He felt kind of bad about just leaving so he wrote her a note telling her thank you and that he hoped her day would be great and then he let himself out.

 

When Hannibal got a break the next day he decided to call Claire to have her come over for supper that night.

She was at the hotel when her phone rang. Thankfully, it wasn't a busy day and she was able to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep last night," she began. "I just got so tired."

"I understand, Claire," he reassured her. "You looked really tired last night."

"I'm so glad you're cool about it."

"I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. We'll get right on with your cooking lesson."

"Wait, tonight? I can't really. I work the diner. Which means I get off at six in the morning."

"Well, then join me for breakfast."

"I might pass out again. Oh, and I'll reek of diner smell."

He thought for a minute. "Don't worry about it. I have plenty of room you can rest at my house. And bring your shampoo; just take a shower when you arrive."

"I guess that'll work," she didn't sound overly convinced, but she sounded like she didn't want to miss the opportunity to be with him.

"Sounds great, Claire. Should I expect you around six thirty then?"

"Yeah, gives me some time to get there without being late. I'll see you then." She sounded so perky.

 

Six thirty came around and Hannibal had been up all night. He couldn't really get to sleep last night and thankfully it was his day off, unless the FBI called him in. The doorbell rang. It had to be Claire. He was still holding his cup of coffee when he answered the door.

"Good morning." He smiled at her.

She looked exhausted. And sure enough the fryer and food smell greeted him before she did. "Morning." She yawned. "Sorry. I really need that shower. Get the smell off of me and wake me up." She was carrying her purse, laptop, and a backpack with what could be assumed was her clothes and shower items.

"Of course," he said as he let her in.

He watched her head up stairs.

"Claire, there's an iPod speaker in there if you'd like to listen to music," he shouted up at her.

"Really?" She peered down at him from the top of the stairs. "Awesome. Good thing I brought my Pod. Sure you don't mind? I listen to a lot of the new stuff that gets played on the radio?"

He gave her a "just go" look to which she responded with a "whatever" look and then turned toward the bathroom. Moments later a muffled Lady GaGa song could be heard upstairs.

Hannibal's bathroom was good sized with the shower separate from the tub. Compared to what Claire was used to it was a spa. The first thing she did was start up her iPod and then she unpacked her supplies. She placed her shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower. Then she sat her change of clothes on a close by counter along with some leave in conditioner, deodorant, and her own towel.

She approached the roomy shower and fiddled with the knobs learning which way was on and which way was off. She really wanted to avoid that awkwardness. When she was confident about it she started to undress, grimacing at the smell of diner, and then placing the dirty clothes in a sack and then in her backpack.

She stepped into the running water and was amazed at how the water pressure and the shower head stream felt against her tired back. She sang to her music as she washed; getting lost in the rhythm and the comfort, not noticing that the main door to the bathroom had opened. Her music was loud enough she didn't hear the footsteps around her nor did she hear the clicking of a lock from the main door.

Ten minutes later, Claire stepped out and immediately ran her hair through her towel and then wrapped herself in it. She shut off her music and then went to the counter. She looked down at were her clothes were but only saw her underwear and bra. Her t-shirt and jeans were gone.

'Da hell?' she thought. She shrugged it off that maybe she didn't actually grab them and just thought she did. She did do that kind of thing enough. So without much concern she turned to check her backpack. It too was gone.

'Ok. Now I'm concerned.'

Even though he didn't seem like the type, Hannibal must've been pulling some kind of prank on her. She decided to go and ask what was going on. She also thought it was better to at least have her bra and underwear on as opposed to just the towel and put those articles on and then wrapped back in the towel. She tried to go out the door in front of her but found it locked. She turned to the other door off to the side. If it wasn't a closet, then it lead to Hannibal's room and if it was a closet, God only knew what she'd do.

She turned the knob and opened the door, sure enough to a dimly lit bedroom. Despite it being in the morning the room was pretty dim due to the heavier curtains being closed. She only looked directly in front of her and saw a table in front of the fireplace with her clothes sitting neatly on it just as they had sat in the bathroom. Her backpack was sitting in one of the nearby chairs. Relieved she headed towards the table, but only got up to the ottoman and was startled by the familiar deep voice.

"Stop. Don't go any further," Hannibal commanded. His voice was gentle, but authoritative.

Claire froze. She was mad at herself for concentrating solely on her belongings and not her surroundings. She was embarrassed at the entire situation. But she still didn't move as he came up to her. All she did was hold her towel closer to her body and stared at him with a frightened and defensive expression.

He saw the fear on her face. But knowing how she was, he wasn't sure if it was more afraid of him or afraid of her body. "Please don't be scared, Claire. I won't do anything to you that you don't want done."

"What are getting at, Hannibal?" Her voice was shaky, yet strong.

He raised a hand up to touch her cheek. She jumped at not knowing what he was doing but relaxed a little when he softly touched her.

"I don't know why you are so ashamed of your body. You are a very attractive young female."

The look of "whatever" came over her face. "No one in their right mind would want me. I'm fat, covered in stretch marks,..."

"Stop." Again, it was authoritative, but gentle.

He guided her towards the foot of the bed, in front of the ottoman. He looked her over and then proceeded to make an attempt to take the towel off of her. At first she wouldn't let go, but gave in when she looked at his face. He took it from her and tossed in the chair that had her backpack. She stood before him in just the black bra and underwear while he was in front of her in a suit minus the overcoat and tie with his sleeves rolled up. He then looked her over again. She began shaking.

"Are you alright?" He was concerned.

She nodded. Part of it was she was cold, but most of it was from being scared and/or embarrassed.

"Look at you. A healthy specimen. Firm, real breasts; a stomach that shows you've worked hard to achieve it's shape; strong muscular thighs and arms." He gently touched each body part as he talked. "You are a powerful woman who should never speak ill of herself."

He got down on one knee and began kissing her hand. He looked up at her like she was a goddess. He then kissed his way up to her neck. She was still shaking but was there another reason to it now? He pulled away and looked her in the eyes.

"Do you want to stop?" He was sincere when he said he wouldn't do anything she didn't want to.

She shook her head "no". Hannibal replied by kissing her on the lips. He placed his hand on the back of her head as he sweetly bit her lip. She lifted her arms slowly around his neck as he went from biting to sticking his tongue inside her mouth. Her head swirled with the sensation.

He backed her onto the bed as she began to fiddle with the buttons on his vest and shirt. Their lips never leaving each other. They were both on their knees in the middle of the bed. The shirt and vest were undone and then thrown off to the side. That's when they separated. Claire stared at the man before her, a look of lust in her eyes. She ran her fingers through his chest hair.

"Are you sure about this?" Hannibal was asking himself as much as he was asking Claire. To no surprise she nodded, licking her lips.

They began kissing again. He moved his hand over her breasts as she moved hers towards the bulge in his pants. He then slid his hand to her leg, guiding her on her back. He left her lips and moved to her neck again. This time biting causing her to gasp a little and dig her nails into his shoulder. It startled him and he stopped to check her expression; it was still lustful. Apparently, that reaction was of pleasure and not pain. He took that as a sign to move to on top of her and alternated between kissing and biting her lips to kissing and biting her neck.

While their lips were busy, he worked on undoing her bra and she undid his pants, using her feet to remove them the best she could. He tossed the brazier off to the side and then slide down to remove her underwear, again tossing it to the side. Now she was completely naked. He took a break to remove his pants the rest of the way, not taking his eyes off of his lover. But before he went back to smothering her with kisses and bites he grabbed a condom out of the end table and put it on.

He looked back at her. She was smiling at him. She then raised herself up to meet him with kisses and bites. He never wanted anyone so bad. He guided her back down to the bed and proceeded to thrust into her. Again, she gasped, but didn't stop her mouth work. He stopped with her lips and went back to her neck, biting down with each trust. She reacted by digging her nails into his back. He left her neck to face her staring deeply into her lustful eyes as he continued the momentum. She wrapped her legs around him helping him go deeper into her. He enjoyed that.

He began to go faster as he neared climax. He turned his bites and fondling towards her breast. She muttered something as she too neared climaxing. He gave her a few kisses one last time, before biting down, hard, on her neck as he orgasmed. At the same time she gave a small scream. He felt her vaginal muscles tighten around him and his filling condom.

They were both breathless. Her eyes were closed. He rolled off of her and took her hand in his, kissing her fingers. She turned to face him and opened her eyes. The lust had left, but he wasn't sure what had replaced it. He then took his other hand and stroked the whole of her body eventually settled on stroking her hair. It was dry and curly now. And just as soft as the day he took her scrunchy out. She wiggled closer to him and he embraced her in his arms still playing with her hair.

They stayed like that until Hannibal realized she had fallen asleep. He got up from the bed, threw away the prophylactic and then covered her with a blanket. He gave her a small kiss on the forehead before he left to clean himself up. After which he realized how tired he was and crawled into bed next to her.

Claire slept soundly and didn't wake up until after six that night. When she opened her eyes she panicked for a split second realizing she wasn't home and at Hannibal's, who had woken up sometime before her and was no where to be seen. She looked around for a clock and going into a panic again when she realized how late it was and that she was late for work. She ran to the table with her clothes and scurried to get dressed. As soon as her head popped out of her shirt she frantically looked for her phone. The situation seemed to get worse when she found that not only her phone must have been downstairs in her purse, but once again her backpack was not where she had left it when she had turned her back on it.

She ran downstairs, while quickly putting her hair up in the half ponytail, her big, scared steps causing loud thuds that Hannibal could hear all the way into the kitchen. He met her in the entrance way where she was busy digging through her purse.

"Looking for something?" He asked her. He appeared to be slightly worried about her predicament.

"Yeah, my phone." Her words came out very quick. "I slept way too late! I'm late for work and I can't find my phone--"

"Calm down, Claire. I have your phone."

She stopped her spastic searching, sat her purse back down, and held her hand out as she spoke. "Oh, thank, God. Can I have it please? I need to make sure I still have a job." She was so mad at herself.

"You don't have to worry. I called in for you at noon."

"You did what?" Confusion came over her face.

"I knew you needed the break. I'm worried you're waring yourself thin, so I called told them who I was and that you suffered from a bit of exhaustion and that you could not work tonight."

"Can you do that? I mean...You're not my doctor anymore---"

"They don't need to know that and as long as you have a doctor's excuse what can they do?"

"Did I really look that bad?"

Hannibal walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I could see how tired you were in your eyes. And you _did_ fall asleep on me twice. If that's not a hint at being over worked, I don't know what is."

"Good point. I really am sorry about that. And thanks for calling me in." She wrapped her arms around him to give him a hug. Her head rested on his chest and she could hear his heart beating. It made her smile.

"No apologies needed, Claire. And you're welcome." He let her go and then cupped her face in his hands. "Now, dinner should just about be ready. Come sit down."

She followed him into the dining room. He pulled out her chair for her. As she sat down he told her what they were having. It was a long and complicated name, but the basic understanding of it was mutton with a special sauce and/or seasonings. She never had mutton before but found she enjoyed it.

"Do you work the diner tonight too?" He asked her before taking a bite.

As soon as she put her glass of water down she answered, "Yeah. I'm debating on whether I should go tonight since I got called off from the hotel. Just don't know how that would look if someone from the hotel shows up at the diner..."

"Call off." There was that gentle, yet authoritative tone again.

"Ok...." She stared blankly at him.

"How long have you worked? At both places?"

"About four years at the hotel. And a year and a half at the diner? Somewhere around there."

"Never called off?"

"No. I can't really....it's a pain in the ass getting someone to fill in for me."

"Then there's nothing wrong with having a day to yourself."

"True. But I'm not spending the day to myself though." She smiled at him and he smiled back.

They changed their conversation off of her jobs for a while and after they were done eating she got on the phone and called off of the diner. Claire stood in front of one of glass doors while Hannibal cleared the table. The owner understood, told her that he'd call in some other person who had called off the other day, who she had to fill in for, and not to worry about a note. Before hanging up he also wished her the best.

"He sounds like a nice fellow," Hannibal commented when she put her phone down.

"And that's where the problem with his son comes in." She fiddled with the phone as she continued. "He's too nice a person. Ah, damn, I'm going to need to buy minutes." Claire paused staring at her phone, then it dawned on her to ask an important question. "Oh, just hit me- What happened to my backpack?"

He approached her and place a hand on her shoulder. "It's down here. Figured I'd wash your clothes for you."

She turned her head to face him, smiling. She couldn't help but do that a lot around him. "You are just too kind to me. Thank you. You didn't have to do that. I was going to take care of them as soon as I got home--." She crossed her arms as she turned her whole body to him. "Or am I going home tonight?" Her smile turned more mischievous.

He smiled and looked down. "Well." He looked at her. "If you'd like to stay, you may."

Her cheeks turned red. "I just might." They locked eyes and smiled at each other, but Claire caught herself and looked away. "You need help cleaning up?"

He nodded and they went into the kitchen to wash dishes, during which they discussed movies, of all things.

Hannibal wasn't really a fan of TV or movies. He'd watch some of the more artsy older movies but that's about as far as his interests would go. In fact he didn't even own a TV or DVD player. But Claire, kept talking about one of her favorite movies: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the original more so than the remake even though she loved both. She brought it with her just in case it was boring at work, but since she didn't work that night she tried really hard to talk him into watching it at least once with her.

"Well, that is if you don't have anything else to do tonight." The look in her eye said she wasn't talking about work or research. "And if you don't like it, you can always leave or I can shut it off. Whatever."

He considered it as he saw a look of please in her eyes. "I'll give it a try." He gave her a smile as he gave her a kiss on the lips.

Hannibal took her to the living room and since he didn't have the equipment to play the movie they used Claire's laptop. She placed it on the coffee table and moved it to a comfortable watching position. He spent more time watching her reactions to the movie than he did watching it himself. She was very into it, but he could see her thinking about something and he did find it very ironic and amusing that her favorite movie centered around a family of cannibals, but that was the only thing he really felt about the movie.

When the film finished, she turned to Hannibal for a review, but she read his look and understood that it wasn't his type of thing. Oh, well, she tried. She just smiled at him. They then chatted some more about whatever they could think of and went on passed midnight. Neither of them realized what time it was getting to be until Claire yawned.

She took up Hannibal's offer of staying the night but it hit her that she didn't have her night clothes with her. "Oh, crap!" She shouted as she slapped her forehead. "I just got t-shirts, jeans, and a work shirt with me. Shirt's not the problem, it's the jeans. Those are not meant to be slept in."

"Then don't sleep in them," he told her, giving her a smirk.

Her eyes lit up with shenanigans. "Alrighty then. So the next question I have is where's the guest room?"

"Who says you have to sleep there?"

At first she smiled, but then it faded rather fast. It didn't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked her.

Claire stared at the floor as she spoke. "I'm starting to question how fast this is going. I've heard things about going to fast, so I didn't with my last, well, my first and only relationship. _But_ that didn't make anyway, so does it matter? I mean, should-"

He cut her off. "Claire. You were worried about how you were feeling and gave yourself- us, a chance to think it over. I think you're right were you want to be."

She snapped her head up to look at him. "So, if it doesn't work then it doesn't work. Regardless."

He only gave her a loving look as a response as he, once again put his hand to her cheek. She leaned into it this time and placed her hand on his. He wasn't lying when he said the month gave him time to consider her. She was alone. She could be all his.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "I think it's time for bed, Claire." He removed his hand from her face and got up.

"Yeah."

He gave her the clothes that he had washed for her and they headed up stairs. As soon as they entered Hannibal's room they started changing. He only managed to put his pants on when he became very distracted by her standing in her underpants while she took off her bra and put on the clean t-shirt. She took out her scrunchy and shook her hair loose at which point he sneaked up behind her and placed an arm around her waist. It made her jump a little.

"What are you doing?" She giggled.

He didn't answer, only buried his face in her neck.

 

Hannibal pretended to sleep as he waited for Claire to drift into REM. As soon as he was sure she was out, he got up from the bed. It was a hunting night and Claire's presence wasn't going to change that. He changed into a normal suit and then into a protective plastic suit. He slicked his hair back and put on latex gloves. He had his kill already picked out. It was a very ill-mannered produce worker. She had given Hannibal some lip over some pomegranates and it wasn't just to Hannibal, she was rude to everyone she talked to. Hannibal had carefully learned enough about her to prepare for tonight.

He knew she worked not only the produce section, but she had a second job, working twice a week at a bar, where she wasn't shy about helping herself to the register sometimes. He knew the landscape of where she'd park her car; there wasn't a security camera around, the buildings around it were abandoned, and it was a poorly lit area. He waited by her car for her. As usual there wasn't another soul to be seen when she approached it, key at the ready. But it never made it to the key hole, because Hannibal popped out at her and over powered her. He was able to get a good enough grip to break her neck.

 

Claire woke up when it was still dark outside and, again, forgot she was in Hannibal's bed. She looked over to her right and saw that he was gone again.

'Wonder what he's up to,' she thought as she got up. She was dying of thirst for some reason; must've slept with her mouth open again. She quietly walked down the stairs, unsure of what Hannibal was up too and if he'd want to be bothered. As she neared the kitchen she noticed that the kitchen light was on.

She went into the room and saw Hannibal was there doing something, but she couldn't tell. He had his back to the doorway. But as soon as her feet hit the title, he stopped what he was doing. Apparently, he had either sensed her presence, smelled her, or heard her. He slowly turned to face her, giving Claire a clear view of the kidney and liver on the counter and the pair of lungs on the chopping board.

He didn't say a word and only stared at her. She stared back. She looked a little scared. They stood in silence for only a few seconds, a minute tops, but it felt like hours.

Finally, Claire gathered herself, crossed her arms, and broke the silence. "So, um, lungs?"

"Yes," his head titled a little, curious what she would do.

"For what kind of meal?" She walked, slowly, farther into the kitchen. Her arms still crossed.

"[fancy meal that contains (or is going to contain) lungs]"

She made it to the counter and stood by him, not taking her eyes off the organs. She looked disgusted. "Who's were they?"

"A produce worker," he told her as he resumed prepping them for the meal.

Claire's disgust clouded her thinking. "Why?"

"She was rude."

"Apparently, she wasn't a smoker. They look-- clean."

Hannibal was surprised at how she seemed more bothered by the fact that there were organs outside the body, than the fact that someone had been killed for them. Regardless, he did have a small wave of 'get rid of the witness', but he was able to brush that off.

She was quiet as she watched Hannibal work. The disgust faded a little and what had faded was replaced by fascination.

"You said that science was your favorite subject in school, yes?" He finally asked her.

She nodded. "And incidentally, I hated dissecting." She managed a small smile.

He began to explain some interesting facts about the organs as he spoke. She paid very close attention as he talked. Disgust had completely left her expression.

"So how do you know so much about anatomy, when your field is more of a mental thing?" she asked him.

"I was a surgeon," he told her.

"Oh, right. I forgot."

There were other things that needed prepped and he asked her if she wanted to help considering what time it was and how tired she looked. She told him she was pretty awake and wanted to help and the work got done pretty quick.

As they cleaned up, Hannibal asked, "You're really not bothered by what I am or what I do?"

"Can't say that I am," she said as she shook her head. "Sure, our culture says it's wrong, but others are ok with it. And it is abundant in nature. I don't know...I just know I don't want to touch the organs or eat them. And I'm certainly not going to go kill anyone, but this is your thing. And you are doing it to people who kind of have something bad coming..." She trailed off.

"Is there more you'd like to add?" He leaned against the counter.

"It's just--- I worry about you getting caught or worse." Her voice was full of concern. He stood up straight and she took the chance to hug him. It caught him by surprise.

He gently pulled her away, lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes, and said, "I've been doing this for awhile. I'm very good at covering my steps and I am confident in those abilities. But, having someone who knows so much may complicate things." His eyes turned cold while Claire's filled with fear. "Now, are you more afraid of what I'll do that gets me caught or is it what you will do that will get me caught?"

Claire thought for a moment before she spoke. "My lips are sealed as much as you need them to be." There was a dark sincerity to her voice. "You need an alibi, and I'll be a part of it. I am yours."

He quickly and aggressively grabbed the side of her face, just as he did to Will when they met up with the killer social worker. He could feel her pulse under his fingers; her heart was beating fast.

"Do you mean that?" It almost came out as a growl.

She stared intensely in is eyes as she nodded. "I don't want anything to happen to you. I--" She chose not to finish the sentence.

His face came very close to hers. She didn't flinch. "Good." He half whispered, before placing his lips to hers. When they parted he added, "Now, let's try to get some sleep, shall we?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much of this is just exploring a possibility of what Hannibal would do if he found someone who accepted his lifestyle. I mean, I don't know since he's a fictional character and not one of mine, but it's fun to imagine that he'd accept it


	3. Tortell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a Hanni-hunt, a new killer shows, and Will and Claire finally meet

Hannibal woke Claire up with enough time to eat and get ready for work. She thanked him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and left, saying that she'd see him later. He smiled and waved as she walked to her car.  
Meanwhile, Will received a call to meet Eva at the latest crime scene. He arrived at the busy crime scene and wasn't too shocked at what was ahead of him.  
It was a closed farmer's market stand and sitting in the operator’s seat was the female victim. There really wasn't anything odd about her, at first anyway. The body was sitting on the chair fully clothed and with the head down, no blood visible anywhere.  
Eva stood at Will's side. "Meet Shauna Neil. She left her job at a bar last night, didn't show up at her store job, and was found here by the owner of this stand. Car was left at the bar. Nobody thought anything about it since, you know, she's at a bar. Price and Zeller said that some of her organs are gone."  
Will grimly stated, "Well, for starters, he didn't do this here. It's too clean."  
"Didn't at the car either. C'mon, Will, give me something I haven't noticed."  
Eva handed him a folder containing photos at Shauna’s car. Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to work out what happened. "I leave my place of work and head to my car. I am attacked and overpowered by a stranger."As Will tells what he can from the story he sees it play out and, in it, out of the shadows comes a figure, not quite man and not quite stag. It stands, covered in blood, over Shauna's limp body while Will was squatting next to it. He was unable to determine anything useful.  
"Hopefully, we'll discover something new in the lab," Eva grumbled when Will came to.  
He knew who did it; just needed the evidence.  
Eva's phone rang. "Mist." She paused and listened to the voice on the other end. "On our way." Will turned to face her. "We're needed somewhere else."  
Eva, Will, and part of the team left their current crime scene and went to the next. It was a standard one floor house; nothing overly fancy. It was already starting to be marked off with police line tape. Will and Eva crossed the tape and went into the house. They walked through the living room and into the master bedroom and found what they were called in for. Whatever the color of the sheets were was now impossible to tell for they were soaked with the blood of the woman laying on them.  
The officers on the scene brought Eva and Will up to speed. They were looking at fifty year old, Diane Lemuel. She was a teacher at the local high school. She apparently was just going to bed or was already asleep when she was attacked. Whoever had done it wanted her dead. They sliced her neck and then used every knife in the set to stab her. Each one was left in her body.  
Will walked around to see if he could piece anything together. Nothing was broken or out of place, so it was not a robbery. Doors didn't appear to be kicked in and windows weren't smashed; the lock must've been picked. There was nothing that really jumped out at him. He wandered back to the bedroom.  
Eva looked disappointed. There was nothing more they could do at that time. They'd have to wait for the lab work to be done and hope it would yield something useful.

Will sat in Hannibal's office chatting with the psychiatrist about murder and philosophy. Will was going on about what it would take for a person to kill a respected teacher like Diane when he felt that something was off, but not in a bad way.  
"Doctor, is there something on your mind?" he asked in a somewhat playful tone.  
"What makes you think that?" Hannibal smirked at him.  
"You're not putting much input into our discussion today. Usually, you love to talk about philosophy."  
Hannibal didn't really want to say anything about Claire to Will, at first. It was his own personal business, but he did consider Will a friend. He thought deeply about it and decided it was time to tell him.  
"I've met someone." He took a sip of wine.  
"Oh, really?"  
"You'd like her. She loves animals."  
Will stared at Hannibal with a loving disbelief that Hannibal actually found someone that made his mind wander. "What's her name?"  
"Claire," it came out with an adoring tone and a smile. "I'd like you to meet her. How about I cook us all a delightful dinner?"  
"Sounds like fun."  
They discussed the perfect time for their little dinner party and returned to their original conversation.

A couple days passed and while Will was feeding and playing with his dogs he received a phone call from Eva saying there was another murder. This time a just retired teacher. Again at the home, at night, nothing disturbed, and not an apparent break in. The victim was killed with a pair of hedge clippers that she owned.  
Sometime later Will met Eva in person at her office and looked over the photos. He deduced that she was sitting at her dining room table playing cards when the killer picked the lock approached her from behind and shoved the clippers into the base of her skull. Lab reports showed nothing useful yet.  
"And the only connection we have is they work or worked at the same high school," Eva sighed.  
"Well," Will stammered. "It is some kind of start."  
"True. We're going to interview other teachers, the principal, maybe even some students and the superintendent. There's gotta be something else besides working at the same place."  
"Subjects?"  
Eva flipped through the folder before her and read the notes. "The first one was a Biology teacher and the other was a English teacher."  
"It's one of those border line clues. It either means nothing or it means everything."

Claire was at home playing on her K'nect when her cell phone started to play the Doctor Who theme. She paused her game and answered it.  
"Hello."  
"Good morning, Claire," came the familiar thick accent through the speaker.  
"Yeah, what's up?"  
"I wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow. Think you'll be able to make it?"  
Claire looked at the work schedules on her fridge. "Ummmmm.....yeah. I can come. I'm off the hotel, but I work the diner. What time should I be over and more importantly what should I wear?"  
"Claire, just wear something nice and be here around 5 or so."  
"Ok....do I dare ask what's being served?"  
There was a slight pause on the other end. "Would you like salad?"  
Claire got the hint. "That....that works for me. Yeah. Thank you."  
"Alright then. I shall see you tomorrow. Have a good day today, Claire."  
"I'll try, Hannibal, and you too." She smiled.

Will arrived at Hannibal's about forty-five minutes early. He was already in the area and had nothing better to do, so might as well make small talk and find out more about this Claire before she arrives.  
Hannibal let him in and lead him to the kitchen. He asked Will if he'd like to help. Will agreed and Hannibal gave him the job of chopping up some herbs.  
"So, Hannibal, what is this girlfriend of yours like?" Will started in. He saw Hannibal tense up a little at the word 'girlfriend' and he took pleasure in it.  
To avoid saying anything emotional, Hannibal only answered with, "You'll just to find out when she gets here."  
Will knew it was an awkward situation and loved watching him squirm. But he couldn't help wonder what this girl was like since she had an interest in him. He pictured more or less a female version of Hannibal; charming, somewhat cold, and distant; tall, skinny, and always dressed in an elegant dress. But really, what could be considered this man's type?  
They changed conversation, finished getting dinner ready, and sat in the dining room, drinking wine and discussing what was floating around in Will's head. Eventually, the doorbell rang. Hannibal rose from his chair and walked to the door.  
"Claire, you're right on time," he told her with a smile as he let her in. Again, the aroma of her perfume hit him as she passed and he had to admire what she was wearing. She caught him looking at her. "Is what I'm wearing ok?" She asked. Although, dressed in jeans, she wore a very lovely no-sleeved, somewhat frilled, dark colored, strawberry print blouse with a black tank top underneath to keep it from being too relieving. Her hair was down except for a little bit that was put up in a pony tail.  
"You look lovely. I neglected to tell you that we'd have another guest with us tonight. It's a friend of mine I'd like you to meet."  
"Alrighty." She smiled as she followed him to the dining room.  
Will got up from his seat as soon as he saw Hannibal enter and was taken aback by the short, twenty something year old that followed behind him.  
"Claire Dove, this is my friend Will Graham. Will, this is Claire."  
Claire and Will shook hands and said "hi" as Hannibal watched the exchange. He couldn't help but notice that Claire's shyness kicked in while Will stared in shock. 'This is going to be an interesting experience all around', Hannibal thought. And while he thought that, both Claire and Will were questioning how much the other knew about Hannibal.  
"Our meal should be finished soon, please let's sit down." Hannibal gestured them towards their seats. He pulled out Claire's chair for her before getting her a glass of water and then taking his seat at the head of the table.  
"So, Claire," Will began. "How did you meet Doctor Lecter?"  
Claire put down her glass. "Well, I was a patient of his." She glanced over at Hannibal to see his reaction. She was worried about saying something wrong. He smiled at her not in approval, but more so observational.  
"Was?"  
"Yes. I decided to see another psychiatrist when I felt I was getting emotionally attached to him. Didn't feel it was good for my therapy." Again, she glanced at Hannibal, but he had turned his attention to Will.  
"Interesting."  
"What about you, Will? How long have you known Hannibal?"  
"For a while." Will took a drink of wine as he stared across at Claire, trying to figure her out.  
There was a moment of awkward silence before Claire asked, "What do you do for a living?"  
Hannibal answered for Will. "He's a consultant for the FBI. He understands the minds of killers."  
Her face lit up. "Cool."  
"Claire has a little bit of a fascination with forensics," he told Will.  
Will didn't seem overly impressed as a look of confusion came over his face as he struggled to keep the awkward silence away. "So, what do you do?"  
Her face dimmed. "I'm a desk clerk and a waitress. Not overly exciting, I know."  
"I'm sure it has it's moments."  
Claire took that as an invitation to tell some interesting stories. It was better than nothing.  
Soon, diner was served. Again it was something fancy and since Hannibal had recommended the salad to Claire it was safe to assume the meat was not from a four legged beast. It didn't escape Will that Claire was eating something different.  
"A salad, Claire?" His tone was judgmental.  
"I'm a picky eater," she stated simply. "I only like certain things and I'm scared to try anything new. We all have different tastes." She scanned Will's face. He was up to something but she couldn't tell what. Does he know what Hannibal is? If not, does he suspect?  
"That's too bad. This is very delicious."  
"Maybe one of these days I'll be brave and try it but until then I'll take your word for it."  
They finished dinner, while discussing other topics, and Hannibal cleared the table for dessert. While he was gone, Will took the opportunity to speak privately with Claire.  
He leaned over the table to get as close to her as he could, and aggressively, half whispered, "Look, Claire, I don't know what you know about him or what you're playing at, but you need to get away from Hannibal Lecter. He is not who you think he is. He is dangerous and you need to stay away. Get out while you still have your life."  
Claire stared slightly shocked at him. Then checked to see if Hannibal was coming back before she sharply answered back, "Hannibal Lecter is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I feel one hundred percent safe with him. I appreciate the concern, but I think I'll stay right where I'm at."  
They glared at each other until they heard their host's footsteps. Hannibal had outdone himself with the chocolate pastry he made for dessert. It was heavenly. But it didn't drown out the tension that was still lingering in the air. Hannibal was unaware what had happened while he was out of the room, but he knew something was up.  
With Will's last bite, he rose from his chair apologized for eating and taking off, but he had to get some rest. He said "goodbye" and "nice to meet you" to Claire but not without a shot of disdain. When Hannibal returned after escorting Will out he questioned her about what took place while his back was turned.  
"He warned me about you," she said. Still frustrated at the experience. "Said I should leave while I have the chance. Does he---know?"  
Hannibal smirked. "Will has his suspicions."  
"He won't get anything out of me," she said, then took a sip of water.  
He laughed at her spunk. "Come, let's clean up."  
Before heading to the kitchen, Claire checked her phone for the time. It was a little after eight. Hannibal removed his overcoat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. As they did dishes, they talked more of Will. He told her about his obsession of taking in stray dogs and how they'd work on cases together. As soon as she dried and put away the last wine glass, he placed a hand on her cheek and guided her face so he could stare her in the eyes.  
"What did you say to Will when he warned you about me and said to leave?" His expression was cold.  
She showed no fear this time and answered honestly, "I told him that you were the best thing to have happened to me and that I never felt safer."  
His expression warmed. "Oh, really?"  
"Yes. I've never been happier since I've met you."  
He smiled as the statement inflated his ego. "I am glad to hear that."  
He closed the space between them and gave her a passionate kiss. As soon as they parted he stared in her eyes and saw that they gleamed with lust. He rested his forehead to hers, a big smile on his face.  
"My Claire." He sighed, causing her to smile and her eyes to light up more.  
He kissed her again and brought her body as close to his as he could. She ran her fingers through his hair and could feel his growing erection rubbing up against her crotch. He then pulled her hair causing her neck to be exposed and allowing him to bite down, and hard, where the neck meets the shoulders. Her skin crawled with goosebumps. Her fingers had left his hair and where now at his shoulders, nails digging in.  
When he came up for a breath, she took her chance to start kissing and occasionally nipping his neck while he stroked her hair. She felt him get more excited.  
He couldn't wait any longer. "Claire," he whispered in her ear as she continued biting and kissing. "Upstairs."  
She left his neck and gave him a very mischievous smile. With his hand in hers, she effortless pulled him upstairs. As soon as they cleared the last stair. He slammed her against the wall, pressed his lips against hers, and thrusted his tongue into her mouth. Desire had completely taken over the both of them. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom.  
He gently laid her on the bed and caressed her. She smiled as she placed her hand on his face, which he gently kissed. Eventually, she propped her self up on one arm and returned her lips to his, giving just a couple of kisses before getting up on her knees to take the scrunchy out of her hair. At the same time he moved to sit on the edge of the bed taking his shoes off.   
He felt the weight on the bed shift and looked up to see her move to right in front of him. Her hands moved to his shoulders. His worked on taking her blouse and tank top off and as soon as they were off she sat on his lap. His manhood begged to leave its trappings. She began to kiss from his ear down his neck; her breath was warm. When she came up for air, he took his turn necking. She felt the need to just rip his shirt apart and break all the buttons, but as hot as that would've been, she had enough sense to work them loose and gently remove the shirt. She ran her nails down his chest.  
Hannibal then flipped Claire over so she was back on the bed. He kissed her belly as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. He started to pull them down as he returned to her lips. He pulled them down farther as he got up to grab protection. She finished taking them and her bra off then sat patiently on the edge of the bed. She heard the crinkle of a wrapper.  
Back to kissing when he returned to her. She took the condom from his hand and started to undo his trousers. His erection was free at last and she unrolled the condom over it. He titled her head towards his as he pushed her on her back and entered her body. Again she used her feet to take his pants almost all the way off. He looked her in the eye as his hips rocked in a steady motion. Occasionally, she'd let out a moan of pleasure.  
"Oh, God! Harder, Hannibal," she gasped.  
He stopped, sat up, got his pants completely off, and guided her back on his lap. The position allowed him to go deeper and he became harder as he wrapped his arms around her and dug his nails into her back. He'd push her down with every movement she made.   
She let out another "oh, my, God" as her grasp on his shoulders got tighter. He wouldn't be surprised if, and kind of hoped, she'd eventually draw blood. He could feel that his were doing that to her. Both neared climax. He bit down on her neck again; this time with the intent to leave bruising. He left her neck and faced her again. She was close.  
"Hannibal, I--"  
He shushed her and then kissed her lips. Their lips broke away, as he pushed down on her as her body gave a few more rocks. His forehead rested on hers again as they climaxed together. Her eyes closed as her muscles spasmed. He ran his nails down her back as he tensed up from his orgasm, marking her as his.  
Out of breath, Claire opened her eyes as she relaxed and loosened the grip on his shoulders. She did indeed manage to draw blood and she could feel little droplets of hers form on her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he caressed her. They were still forehead to forehead. They didn't say a word only smiled at each other and taking pride that they had managed to leave marks on their lover.  
It seemed like hours, but was only seconds, before Hannibal broke the silence. "You are beautiful." He kissed her forehead as she blushed and smiled.  
"You're not so bad yourself." It was all she could think to say and kind of regretted saying it. He chuckled. He knew he had her right where he wanted her.   
They cuddled for a while until she realized she needed to get cleaned up for work. He told her she could use the shower.  
"Crap! I don't have my shampoo or anything," Claire realized.  
"Then use mine."  
The time it took for her to shower aloud for him to tidy up the room and put on his night clothes. When she entered the room, he could smell his shampoo on her and it turned him on. The time also aloud for her bruises to show and her scratches to look angrier. He had marked her good. The ones she gave him were nothing compared to what he did to her. She got dressed and the couple went downstairs.  
"Thanks for dinner tonight," she said as she stood by the door.  
"Anytime, Claire." He said to her, smiling.  
"I'm hoping no on will notice my, um..." She trailed off, gesturing to her neck. "Actually, you know what? I don't care if they notice or not. That was---that was great."  
Hannibal gave her one last passionate kiss before sending her on her way. He had marked her; he let everyone know that she was his and no one else's.  
That night while Hannibal and Will were asleep at their houses and Claire worked at the diner, the teacher killer struck again. It was the Trigonometry teacher this time. He was at home, in his living room, staying up late grading papers while his spouse slept. He decided it was time for a break and walked to his kitchen to get a soda. When he shut the fridge, he was startled by a figure standing behind the fridge door. He was relieved when he realized it was his husband.  
"You're still up?" he said through a yawn.  
"Yeah, I got maybe ten more essays and then I'm done," the teacher replied with a smile.  
"Alright, just make sure you get some sleep."  
They kissed and then the husband returned to bed while the teacher went back to his papers. He shook his head and laughed at how jumpy he was. But it wasn't like he had no reason to be for as soon as he entered the living room there was another dark figure that was obviously not a loved one. Before he could question or alert anyone, it charged and made a precise and quick slash motion with a scalpel across his neck. The teacher gagged as the blood drained from him. It was loud enough to get his husband's attention. He rushed to his lover's side and looked up just in time to see the intruder run out the door he had broken into. He dialed 9-1-1 even though it would be too late to save him.  
Eva was woken up just minutes after paramedics and the police arrived at the scene. She gathered her team together immediately and went to the teacher's house. They got the husband's statement and processed what evidence they could find. Again, it didn't appear to be much.  
Later that morning, when it was actually daylight, Will was called in to take a look at things. He was surprised when he walked into the morgue to see that Hannibal had also been called in. He got the idea as to why when he looked at Eva's expression; she looked mad.  
"Hello, Graham." She seemed to be done hiding her frustration. "Meet victim three, Mr. Dweller. The Trigonometry teacher. Killed this morning. His husband reported that a dark figure surprised attacked him in the living room with a knife."  
"Not just any knife," Price added. "Surgical scalpel. Look how clean these cuts are."  
"My guess from the Biology room," Will added some imput.  
"Yep," Zeller confirmed. "The wrapper was tossed outside by a tree. We dusted for fingerprints and found some. Got a match from our first victim, the Biology teacher."  
Price continued with the findings. "The English teacher yielded something interesting. Our killer had spat on her."  
"What?" Eva said in disgust.  
"Brian noticed something on her cheek and we tested it. Sure enough: saliva."  
"We got DNA?"  
Zeller: "No match to anything in the database. But we know we are looking for a male."  
"Our killer must have hated her. Maybe it was his worst class or he found her rude? Something to have shown that kind of disrespect," Hannibal said.  
"You'd think he would've saved that for the maths teacher. Anyway, we did interview some of the kids and faculty," Eva reported. "Nobody has any clue who'd do this. Everyone complains about their classes and teachers, and yes, the English teacher is one of the big ones. I guess she taught in a more advanced way that quite a few students can't handle. We're already in the process of getting the paperwork to check the kids' transcripts and permanent records. Maybe it's someone failing all their classes? Or someone who's acted up? Something. I just know when we go back, I want you two with me." She pointed at Will and Hannibal.  
Suddenly, Eva's phone rang. She answered it, listened, and seconds later hung up. She turned to her two consultants.  
"We've got another one."  
The team arrived at the high school, which had just started its day. A cop ushered them to the gym. By the withdrawn bleachers was a man hanging from the ceiling.  
Price, Zeller, and the rest got to work processing the scene. Eva, Will, and Hannibal approached the body and discussed the site before them.  
"Another teacher, we can assume same perb?" Eva questioned.  
"Sure looks like it." Will scanned the scene. He aloud it to take him into one of his narrations.  
"I wait for everyone to leave the building. As soon as I'm alone I borrow the scissor lift to put the rope up to just the right length. I then leave and keep one of the exits opened. I find the teacher and immobilize him to bring him here, drag him up to the rope and tie it around his neck. I come down from the bleachers. I activate the switch that controls them. They withdraw and leave him to hang. This is my design" He snapped out of it. "He not only knows them, but knows the school. Student, parent, woker?"  
Hannibal stared at the hanging gym teacher for a while and then a thought occurred to him. "He's angry at them. I'm starting to think it's a dropout who blames not himself but his teachers."  
Eva turned to him. "And what makes you say that, Doctor?"  
"For starters they all taught different subjects. The second victim, the retired teacher. When did she retire?"  
Eva struggled to recollect the information, but Price answered for her. "It was just this last year, after school was out for the summer. I remember seeing a bit in the paper to congratulate her."  
"That says that it was someone that's known her or about her for at least a year. Showing this much anger points to someone who blames someone else for their life being screwed up." Will saw what Hannibal was seeing.  
"Makes sense, but we have no proof," Eva hissed, hands on her hips.  
She looked passed Will and Hannibal and saw that one of the officers was approaching them.  
"Agent Mist," she said. "There's a young lady who'd like to talk with you."  
Eva nodded and motioned Will to follow her out of the gym and into an empty class room. They found a shy-looking sophomore girl sitting at a table waiting for them.  
"Hello, Ms, I'm Agent Mist and this is Will Graham," Eva introduced as she and Will shook the student's hand. "I was told you had something to say?"  
The girl nodded. "It's about what's going on." Eva nodded to encourage her to continue. "I think I know who's doing this. There was a boy in my History class last year. He was quiet, always sat in the back, and always got horrible grades. I felt bad for him so I tried to talk to him and help him. He didn't seem to like me very much. He didn't seem to like anyone. Occasionally, he start muttering about how it wasn't his fault and that these teachers didn't know-" She paused and looked at the adults before finishing her sentence. "That they didn't know shit and he was going to get back at them. It started out with just that. The 'getting back at them' but then it got worse and he started to mention killing them. It freaked me out and I told the councilor but I don't know what happened after that."  
"Do you remember his name?" Eva asked her gently.  
The girl shook her head. "I remember what he looks like. He's tall, very thin; he had shoulder length blonde hair- never was sure if it was his real color or not."  
"Thank you, dear. You've been very helpful." And Eva meant that. The girl's statement confirmed Hannibal's theory and now they had an idea of what the disturbed young man looked like.

Later that afternoon, Hannibal called Claire and invited her to a picnic in the park before she had to go to work at the hotel. The lunch he made was some type of fancy sandwich with a couple of sides and he respected Claire's wishes of not wanting to eat people, at least for now.  
They sat at a picnic table under a tree and because of the news coverage their conversation steered towards the teacher killings.  
"I can't believe anyone would actually go out and kill their teacher," Claire began. "We all have or had teachers we didn't like, but to kill them? I don't know maybe that's just me." She pulled a piece off of her sandwich and put it in her mouth.  
"We all have that killer instinct," Hannibal lectured.  
"Yeah, and it's only a matter of what sets us off that separates us from the rest of nature." She caught Hannibal's slight surprised expression and smiled. "Whoever is doing it must not have been too stable to begin with though."  
He couldn't pass up the opportunity to talk psychology. "Oh, really, Claire?"  
Her tone was slightly sarcastic. "Yes, really. I'd start looking at anyone bullied or from a broken home. Childhood trauma is a good indicator." He gave her a questioning look. "On Dark Minds they talk about three factors that could lead to homicidal behavior later in life: mental illness, head trauma, and/or childhood trauma. And as someone who was bullied, I can understand having a deep unbridled hatred."  
Hannibal smiled at her. "Are you saying I'm going to have to worry about you killing me one of these days?"  
"If the right thing sets me off, Lecter," she said through a giggle as she shook her head. "But seriously there are exceptions to the rules and stereotypes. Like Bundy. They said on there he didn't fall within any of the three."  
Her gaze fell on Hannibal as her mind wandered. He could feel that she was working what she had learned from the show on him. It made him feel a little proud, but more so violated. He was thankful she was an amateur. She felt the tension and immediately dropped her eyes to her food.  
There was an awkward silence for awhile before Hannibal changed to subject somewhat. "Claire, tell me. Did you have any teachers you wanted to kill?"  
She took a sip of her soda and then spoke. "No. I had teachers I didn't like but none that I wanted to see in the obits or that I was willing to die in a prison for."  
"What teachers didn't you like?"  
"Algebra and Chemistry."  
"I thought you loved science."  
"I did! I still do, but the Chem teacher should've been teaching a high leveled class because he'd go off in all directions and leave us all confused. Then he'd get pissed when we couldn't keep up. The Algebra guy was a little like that but not as bad. I was able to retain some of the stuff unlike Chem."  
They finished eating and decided to take a walk around the park to kill some time. They were quite the pair really: Hannibal being six foot something, older, head held high with confidence, where Claire was short, young, and head down. They continued to discuss their school days, mostly Claire's school days. Hannibal wasn't ready to tell her everything yet, but she was ready to tell him everything he could possibly want to know about her. He fed off that kind of trust.  
They stopped by a pond and stared out across the water. Her mind couldn't get off of the recent murders.  
"This whole thing just bothers me for some reason," she stated as she looked at the waves in the pond.  
"As someone who can control that instinct, you are unable to think like someone who can't," He annualized.  
"True," she turned to face him. "I couldn't even kill myself, let alone let that feeling take over to kill someone else."  
He pondered for a minute. "If you could, how would you kill someone?"  
She somehow got used to Hannibal's morbid thinking and in a calm, serious tone, "I'd probably attempt the bleeding eagle."  
Fascinating. "The bleeding eagle? So, specific for someone who isn't murderous. Why that?"  
"I suppose it's because if I was actually pushed to the point of wanting to kill someone, I'd want them to suffer." She looked around to see if anyone could over hear their talk and take it wrong.  
"What about your life? How?"  
A mild look of concern came over her face with that question. "I always saw myself either taking too much medication or drinking something poisonous or I'd slice my wrists open. Why are you asking?"  
"Curiosity."  
She didn't know how to take that nor the questions, but she shrugged it off and returned to watching the water. The wind picked up some and blew her hair out of her face.  
He smiled at her and her occasional darkness, but it faded when he saw the dark circles under her eyes. He hadn't noticed when they were sitting down, because her hair and the tree had shadowed her, but now they were in the open he could see how tired she looked.  
He confronted her. "Claire, are you getting enough sleep?"  
She took a deep breath. "I suppose I'm not, if you're noticing." She looked at him again and saw the worried expression. "I'll be fine. I can run on only a few hours of sleep."  
"You shouldn't have to." He seemed almost angry with her.  
"I'm fine, Hannibal. Really." She walked closer to him and placed a hand on his back. "I've done this for awhile. I'll be ok."  
"I," he began. "I want you to quit one of your jobs."  
"What?" she gasped. "I can't! I need the money so I can-"  
"Claire."  
She shook her head in disbelief. "If I do then I'll have to stop seeing Doctor Salem and God only knows what will-"  
"You'll still have me. I'll help you. I'll take care of you." They looked at each other in surprise when he finished that sentence. "I'll make sure that darkness doesn't take over your Wonderland."  
She smiled and paused before she spoke. "You really worry about me, don't you?" He gave no indication on what he was thinking. In reality he didn't want to share her, her brain, or her psyche with anyone else (specially when she knew so much about him), but he'd let her continue to think it was romantic. "I'll think about it." Her eyes searched for support.  
His expression didn't change nor did he say anything, but he did take her hand and kissed the top of it as they went back to looking at the pond and eventually back to talking.

Will arrived at another chaotic scene. It was an apartment not too far from the high school. It wasn't bloody, but it reflected the violence that had taken place.  
"The Latin teacher," Eva told Will as he entered the room. "She was strangled; bared hand. We got fingerprints and the bruising is showing up."  
Will looked over the young woman's body. He saw that her underwear was down. "She's been raped too?" Eva nodded her head. "He had a crush on her and she must've rejected him." He looked around the room. "She was a fighter."  
"Price and Zeller said it looked like she had scratched him, but we won't know what the gunk under nails is until tests have been run. I'll say this; this kid is leaving enough DNA everywhere to make sure he gets hung within hours of appearing in court."  
"He doesn't care. He just wants his revenge."  
Sometime later, Eva got the call that they were cleared for taking a look at the permanent records for the kids. She called Hannibal and Will to meet her at the principal's office. They were given a list of dropouts and it was a long list.  
"But specifically, someone who was troubled. Someone who dropped out last year," Eva demanded, trying to get the list narrowed down.  
"Sorry. Those details are buried in the files. I just know that goes back a year and a half," the principal replied with a not so enthusiastic tone.  
Eva rolled her eyes and brought the list to a table and began highlighting the male sounding names, but then stopped. She turned back to the principal. "Are there any transgender or female students with male sounding names? We're looking specifically for a male on the DNA level." Will and Hannibal were both impressed by Eva taking that into consideration. Neither one of them thought about it.  
The principal sounded irritated. "Not that dropped out, no." And with that Eva returned to marking off names.  
Hannibal found last years yearbook and handed it to Eva who began to skim for names that were on the list. She found one. One who had light colored hair and looked slim. She pointed him out to Will and Hannibal who took a look.  
"Certainly fits what the girl described to us," Will commented.  
"Not smiling. Definitely, didn't want to be here," Hannibal added. "He's listed under the Freshmen?"  
"In order to be on the dropout list he had to be at least seventeen. Freshmen are typically, fifteen if they pass their requirements. This is gotta be him."  
Eva got the last known address from the file. "Let's go."  
They arrived at the address from the file. Eva knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, this time announcing FBI. Still no answer.  
She turned to her right and asked Hannibal if he could see anyone or anything through the window. After a moment he turned back to her and Will, with a slight concerned expression on his face.  
"What did you see?" She asked him.  
One word came from his mouth. "Flies."  
"Flies?" Eva's face went from confusion to fear as she remembered something from either a tv show or a movie. "Get back," she commanded Will and drew out her gun. She then kicked in the door. They were instantly greeted with the smell of death and decay. "Stay here." She held her gun up as she checked to see if there were any more surprises waiting for her. In the mean time, Will made a call since it seemed they had another crime scene that needed processed.  
"It's clear." They heard her say from somewhere in the fly infested house.  
The two men entered. They found Eva in the kitchen. There were two badly decayed bodies sitting at the table.  
"Mom and Dad," Will blatantly stated. "Safe to assume they've been dead a while."  
"Look at their skulls. They were shot," Hannibal said, pointing to the huge holes in the back of their heads. He then looked down and saw the stains left over from the night it happened.  
Eva caught him and looked as well. "Must've been pretty quick to get both like that. They don't look like they've been moved at all."  
"This is set up like a family meeting," Will realized. "I wonder if they found out what he was planning."  
"I think they did. Look." Hannibal pointed to something that was in the mother's hand.  
"Let's see." Eva pulled out a pair of gloves from her pocket. "Never leave home without a pair. Now, what are you holding?" She pried the fingers apart and took the paper. It was from a notebook. "It's a class schedule, with the teachers' names written by the class. Oh, jeez--on the back he wrote "they will all pay. I'll ruin their lives like they ruined mine." She shook her head. "He really doesn't care; he is that blinded by hate."  
"Question now is," Hannibal began. "Where is he?"  
Will wandered off on his own hoping he'd find something useful. He opened doors, while keeping his hand wrapped in his shirt. First one opened to the bathroom, another to the parents' room, a third to an office, forth was another bedroom, but the last one he was not ready for.  
It was decorated with keep out signs and caution tape and other rebellious things. It was obviously the troubled son's room. He opened the door and immediately called out to his comrades.  
"Will, what is it--Oh my God." Eva stopped dead in her tracks as Will entered the room with Hannibal in tow.  
The room was filled with various dead animals at different stages of decomposition. Each one had been killed a different way and some still had the weapons in them. They were even some hung from the ceiling and some where in jars of God only knew what the liquid was. Others were cut opened and the guts placed on display.  
"I think someone was practicing," Hannibal amused.  
"Sure looks that way." Will knelt down to check under the bed and immediately jumped up. "Eva?"  
"Yeah," she answered as she stepped into the room.  
"You still have your gloves on?" She held up her hands to show that she did as she moved to the other side of the bed. "You might want to give that carpet under your feet a tug."  
The statement not only made her eyes get big, but it got Hannibal's attention. Nonetheless, she obliged and pulled it out form under the bed. She and Hannibal now saw what Will had seen; a mutilated boy.  
"Oh, holy---!" Eva screamed as she jumped back a little. "Oh! He's got to at least be thirteen."  
"Big brother decided he needed to step up his game and figure out how humans work. Looks like he was studying what parts were more vulnerable than others." Will thought back to the first victim.  
"Look for a notebook or folder or something that would hold what he is planning."  
Hannibal pulled out his handkerchief and grabbed a journal from a desk. "Something like this?"  
Eva walked up and grabbed the book. Apparently, what Mom had taken was the first page of the journal; there was still a little bit of page left in the spine. She flipped through and found what he planned to do next and it involved the history teacher.  
She got on her cellphone and called the principal for either the teacher's number or address to which both were given without a second thought. Then she called headquarters to announce what was going on and who needed to be where. Her last call was to the teacher himself, but there was no answer. She left her name, title, and number with a request to call her immediately. She glanced down at the time on the phone.  
"No answer on the phone he could still be at the school," she said as they left the house, just as the crime scene investigators arrived to start processing. "There should be a couple officers on their way there."  
Again, Will, Eva, and Hannibal found themselves at the school, only it was less crowded. There was an uneasy feeling in the air.  
"Alright, I'm going to see if there's anyone in any of these rooms." The orders began. "Will, why don't you check out rooms that way. I'll give you a call if I find him. And keep your hand near your gun. Doctor Lecter, I advise you to either wait right here or in the car."  
"Agent Mist, I feel it might be better if I go with Will. If the young man has his teacher hostage, I maybe able to talk him out of it," Hannibal argued.  
Eva took a deep breath and pondered it a minute. "I don't like it, but I suppose. Just, everyone, be careful. If he sticks to the plan from the journal he'll be armed."  
All three nodded at each other and went in opposite directions. Each room Will and Hannibal checked was empty.  
"Where do you suppose we go if we don't find either of them?" Will asked, more to himself than his companion.  
"That would be up to Agent Mist," Hannibal replied.  
Will was silent for a minute and then reported, "All classrooms are empty. Maybe, library, computer lab--"  
"What about auditorium?" Hannibal nodded to a set of doors that had a faint light coming from them.  
Will had his gun at the ready as they opened the doors to what could easily be mistaken for a play rehearsal, if it wasn't for the described suspect and the real gun pointed at a kneeling man's head.  
"Please, don't," the man pleaded to the gun holder. He then noticed Will and Hannibal. "Oh, thank, God. Please help me. He's going to kill me."  
"Jackson!" Will shouted.  
The young man turned a little to get a glimpse of the intruders and in a cold tone said, "You're too late." There was a bang that echoed throughout the huge room as blood and brain matter shot out from the back of the history teacher's skull. His body went limp and fell over.  
Will was stunned at how sudden it had ended while Hannibal seemed unfazed.  
"Congratulations." Hannibal's tone was almost happy as if he meant to praise what this killer had done. "You've succeeded in your mission. All those who held you back are gone: your teachers, your parents, even your little brother. So what now? Give yourself up?"  
Will stared at Hannibal in complete disbelief, but he knew there wasn't much he could say or do that wouldn't cause him severe harm or set his plans back significantly. In the mean time, Jackson lowered the gun, which had been aimed at the living, and looked at Hannibal in complete confusion.  
"I--I don't know," he stammered. "I didn't--didn't think that far ahead."  
"You put so much thought into this and you didn't have an escape plan ready?" Hannibal tisked.  
"I could run," Jackson whispered. Hannibal shook his head. "I-I-I could just turn myself in."  
Hannibal smiled a little. "You have no where to run to. That takes planning which you didn't do. They will find you. As for turning yourself in. You could do that, but then you'd have prison to look forward to. Maybe even death row, but what the other inmates will do to you in the mean time will be worse than death. Especially, if they found out what you did to your little brother, or even worse when they find out about mother."  
Will worried about what Hannibal was up to, but still couldn't stop him.  
Jackson looked terrified. "What- what do I do?" He seemed to be on the edge of crying.  
"The only other option you have," Hannibal's eyes turned cold. "Kill yourself." It came out so ordinary, almost loving, like he was telling Jackson to go get ready for bed. Both Will and Jackson stood in shock. "It's up to you of course. You're holding a gun and any minute the police will be here. Better think fast."  
Jackson looked at his gun, then at Will and Hannibal, then at the doors, down to his dead teacher and finally back at his gun. He was in complete confusion.  
No sooner did they hear footsteps, the doors opened. In came Eva and a couple of officers all with guns out.  
"Jackson Presley," came Eva's authoritative voice. "You are under arrest for the murders of your teachers. Put the gun on the floor and put your hands on your head."  
The young man didn't move. His face still terrified and confused.  
"Jackson," Eva demanded as she approached the stage.  
Again, he didn't move right away, but as soon as Eva had reached the spot where Hannibal and Will were he lifted his gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was just as quick as when he killed the man beside him.

Hours later, in the early morning, Hannibal decided to visit Claire in her work place, well one of the work places: the diner. His plan was to try and get her to quit. He walked through the door sometime after two in the morning. Sure enough there was Claire behind the counter wrapping silverware in napkins. She heard the bell on the door and looked up.  
"Hannibal?" she squeaked in a surprised tone. "What are you doing here?"  
He sat down. "I came to talk to you."  
"And this couldn't wait?" It came out with a bit of a laugh.  
"I suppose it could have. Are you not supposed to talk while on the clock?"  
"Oh, no. I can. It's....I didn't really want you to see me like--this." She gestured at the apron and grease stained shirt.  
"Why not? I kind of like seeing this side of you."  
She pointed a finger at him and smiled. "Oh, you are such a pain." Her work ethic kicked in. "Do you want a coffee or something?"  
"I will take a coffee, yes."  
She poured him his glass and handed him the milk and sugar. He took a sip and tried to hide his look of disgust.  
"Bad?" she asked not out of insult but of pure curiosity.  
"Not of my taste, no. Some one used to cheap coffee would probably enjoy it, though." He lowered his cup.  
"Sorry, I don't know fine quality coffee. I don't drink the stuff. You want something else?"  
He shook his head. It wasn't the best but it would give him a bit of a caffeine boost so he could stay up and chat with her.  
He looked around the dining area. "Is it busy like this every night?"  
"Most of the time, yeah." She leaned across the counter. "If there's a sports event or something that gets a lot of people out late then we get swarmed, but most of the time I get bored enough to do a lot of these." She lifted up one of the silverware bundles. "I did half of this container just tonight."  
"Are you here alone?" His voice was full of concern.  
She shook her head. "Might as well be. The son's here. And drunk. He's passed out in the back office. Leaves me as waitress and cook. Don't mind when it's like this. At least he's out of the way."  
"You talking shit again, Claire?" came a slurred, angry, deep voice from behind the prep counter.  
Claire stood up and grimaced. "Great," she said while tapping her fingers on the counter. "Speak of the drunken devil and he shall wake."  
Moments later a very tall and porky man staggered out into the dining area. His brown eyes were glazed over and half open. His short blonde hair was greasy and all over his face. He wreaked of cheap liquor.  
"I don't really need you up here, Evan." Claire's voice was shaky and full of disgust. "I got everything under control. You can go back to---whatever it was you were doing."  
"Whatever, bitch, you always need me." He glanced over at Hannibal. "What are you doing, trying to make sure you get a big tip?" He laughed as he approached her. "Going to have to dress a little more sexy if you're trying that now."  
"Screw you," she shouted.  
He got as close as he could to her. "Sure sounds like an invite to me."  
Claire pushed him back some. "Get your smelly ass away from me, Evan!"  
"Come on, baby. The back is just calling our name. And, God, knows what you can do with that big mouth of yours."  
Claire gasped and try to step back but the space between her and the cash register was getting smaller as was the space between her and Evan.  
Hannibal decided it was time to step in. "Sir, you're drunk and the lady is not interested."  
Evan grabbed Claire's arm to make sure she wouldn't run as he turned to face Hannibal, almost as if he forgot that he was there. "Stay out of it, grandpa, this is none of your business."  
Claire looked more insulted than Hannibal did.  
"It is very much my business and if you hurt one hair on her head, I'll have your head on my dinner table." Hannibal's eyes reflected how serious he was.  
Evan laughed again, turning back to Claire. "Oh, I get it. This is your boyfriend, isn't it?" He was still laughing. "Wow. You must've been pretty desperate to want to sleep with a geezer like that."  
Claire had had it. With her free hand, she reached out and grabbed the pot of hot coffee and smashed it into the side of Evan's face. He turned away as the liquid scolded his face. The counter and floor were littered with glass and the beverage. She tossed the handle off to the side. He stood with his back to her and she hoisted herself up on the counter and gave him a good kick in the back causing him to fall over.  
"Are you alright?" Hannibal asked.  
Claire was a little shaky and stunned. "Yeah." It came out almost breathless. "You?" She worried if the coffee had got on him.  
"I'm fine."  
Claire nodded in approval and forced a smile. She didn't notice Evan getting up again until it was too late. She took a defense stance. His face was red and dripping with coffee and blood. A couple of pieces of glass had stuck in the left side of his face. He was armed with a shard of glass. Before he could make any swing, Hannibal jumped over the counter so he was behind the offender. Evan stood in disbelief for a minute before deciding on attacking Hannibal.  
With a skilled arm, Hannibal punched him in the face making him turn to Claire. She grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the counter. It was possible he got more glass in his face. It was a heavy enough blow to make him fall to the ground, but was it enough to knock him out? It didn't matter, Hannibal gave a swift kick to Evan's gut to make sure he wouldn't get up right away.  
"Didn't know you were quite the scrapper," Hannibal complemented Claire.  
"There's still some things you don't know about me." She laughed.  
He reached out for her hand, not taking his eyes off of the pig in front of him. She stepped over Evan and graciously took Hannibal's hand. As soon as she was near enough he placed his arm around her and lead her out from behind the counter. He grabbed the diner phone.  
"It's time to let the police take over," He told her as he dialed the phone.  
"Agreed," she nodded. "I'm going to get a hold of his father."  
They made their calls and sat down and waited.  
"Are you sure you still want to work here?" He asked as he held her hand.  
She sighed. "I've had it. I'm done. I hate to just quit but there is no way I can work even two weeks more after this."  
"Has he always been this bad?"  
"No! Up until recently he was all talk. I don't know what brought on this physical crap."  
Hannibal placed his hand on her cheek. She placed her hand on top of his and leaned into his palm. She jumped a little when she heard Evan groan. It was followed by sounds of him trying to get up.  
Hannibal warned him, "It would be in your best interest to stay down."  
Sometime soon, the police, an ambulance, and Evan's father arrived. The police took both of their statements and Evan was taken to the hospital. Claire told the owner that she was quitting.  
"You're putting your two weeks in?" his voice didn't hide the fact that he already knew the answer.  
"No, sir. I mean right now as in I'm not coming back in. I hate to do that to you, but-"  
He raised his hand to stop her. "I understand. I'll mail you your last paycheck. Claire, I'm sorry about tonight. And for not taking your complaints seriously."  
'You're only sorry because it exploded in your face', Claire thought but she said, "Well, we can't change it now."  
They exchanged their goodbyes and Hannibal escorted her to her car. He drove behind her on the way to her apartment. He wanted to make sure she was fine. He even walked her to her door.  
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" He asked her as she unlocked her door.  
She stepped into her apartment and tossed her purse on the tiny table before she answered, "I'm fine, really, but I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable with being alone tonight."  
He flashed a small smile as he took off his coat. She smiled, looked down, and crossed her arms, but immediately pulled them away while gasping a tiny 'ow'. It got Hannibal's attention and he walked up to her. He took her hands again and held them under the light above the sink. Neither of them had noticed until now that she had tiny cuts on her hands.  
"I don't even know how I got those, but boy do they sting," she said with a look of pain and confusion. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go take care of these and take a shower. I feel dirtier than usual."  
She left the kitchen and went into the bathroom. She took a quick shower and once she had dried her hands, she placed bandages and ointment over the bigger of the cuts and changed into her boxers and a t-shirt. She exited the bathroom and Hannibal was reclining on the pull out couch, flipping through one of her paleontology books in nothing but his boxers. She went to her closet and pulled out an extra pillow, then she crawled into the bed next to him and put her head on his shoulder. He put the book down, then held her close.  
"I'm glad you were there tonight," she admitted.  
"So am I." He fiddled with her hair as he spoke. "Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't been."  
"I'm a fighter but that could've only got me so far before, well, like you said who knows what." She shuddered to think how far Evan would've gotten.  
They cuddled in a comfortable silence. She eventually moved her hand to his chest. She could feel his heart beat; it was very soothing. He placed his over hers and kissed to top of her head, taking in the smell of her shampoo and conditioner.  
"I could fall asleep like this," she giggled after awhile.  
He smiled. "I don't think it'd be comfortable after an hour."  
"True." She sat up and stretched.  
He gave her a stern look. "After all that's happen tonight, I think we should get some sleep. Especially you." She didn't argue.  
He kissed her lips and then helped her pull the covers out. She settled down on her side, with her back to him. He snuggled up close and placed his arm around her waist.  
"At least you got what you wanted." She laced her fingers through his. "I'm down to one job now."  
"Are you going to call Doctor Salem in the morning then?" he asked gently. She felt his warm breath on the back of her neck.  
"I'm going to have to."  
He sighed. "If only it wasn't this circumstance that made you make up your mind."  
"Well, it is what it is."  
It was almost inaudible, but she heard him whisper "My Claire" followed by a chuckle. It unnerved her slightly. Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and said goodnight. He said it back and kissed her neck. Within, minutes both of them fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was discussed on Tumblr how possessive Hannibal would be and I start to experiment with it a little here.  
> Also, I love the cutesy stuff with HanniDove


	4. Panellets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abel Gideon is stolen. Claire questions her feelings for Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's about this point I questioned the quality of this story and by now I was also pondering how sane I was (it was the hanging teacher thing leading into this)

Nothing out of the ordinary happened for a while. There a few murders, including some that Hannibal himself had done, to which there was no evidence that pointed directly to him, but the others were open and shut cases.

One morning after Claire had spent the night with Hannibal (which she had been doing quite a bit the past couple of weeks) while she ate breakfast, Hannibal had grabbed his mail.

"Anything interesting?" she asked innocently as he flipped through the envelopes.

He smiled and then plucked out one that had caught his attention. He sat down as he began to open it. Claire watched his eyes move as he read it to himself. When he finished a mischievous smirk appeared on his face.

"I've been invited to a wedding," he stated.

"A wedding? Whose?" Claire was a little surprised. The only friend she knew of was Will and there was never any mention of a girlfriend or fiancee.

"Eva Mist."

"The FBI lady?"

He laughed a little. "Must you put it in the simplest of terms?" She flashed him a slight apologetic look. "But, yes, she is the woman from the FBI that I've told you about. The date is set for next month. And on an interesting note-" He read over the invitation again, this time out loud, "There's a reception afterwords _and_ I can bring a guest." He looked at Claire, who had put her fork down, giving Hannibal her undivided attention. She seemed a little nervous about what he was going to say next. "Would you be interested in being my guest?"

"I---I----um. Sure?" She couldn't hide how frazzled she was.

"You don't sound very convincing, dear." He was loving the fact that he could analyze her reactions. "Do you not want to go?"

"What? No. I mean, yes I want to go. It's just," she stuttered. She tried to gather her thoughts before she continued. "People. There's going to be people---and----and I-- can't dance. I'll have no one to talk to and I don't want to look like an-- idiot."

He smiled at her, an actual smile to try and reassure her. "It's your social phobia acting up, Claire. This could be good for getting passed that."

"You're right. Ok. I'll go, but promise me you won't leave me alone or at least alone with people."

He grabbed her hand. "I promise."

She smiled as she went back to her food. "Hannibal, do you dance?"

"I don't dance in today's since of the word, but I know the more classy forms."

"So, slow dancing you got, but 'busting a move' is another story?" She giggled. "At least you got something. I just look like an epileptic chicken with its head cut off."

"That's----something." They both laughed.

Another thought came across Claire's mind. She didn't say it out loud but her expression changed suddenly as she ate the last bits of the omelet Hannibal had made.

His face faded to concern. "There's more isn't there?"

She placed her hand on the side of her face as she tilted her head a little. "Well----" Her eyes moved to his. "Just, won't we---look strange? Together? In public?" This thought had come across her mind before: how they must look when they were actually out of the house, as a couple, to other people due to the age difference. It wasn't so bad around strangers, but people that Hannibal knew?

"Because I'm older and you're younger?" He confirmed. She nodded sheepishly. He, too had had the thought, but his was more of a 'mind your own business' attitude rather than embarrassment or judgment. He didn't say a word about her to any one. The only one of his associates that knew about them was Will. "I'm not worried about it, Claire, and you shouldn't either. If we make each other happy, then you shouldn't care what others say or think."

Her smile returned. "I make you happy?"

"Well, I keep letting you in my house. That must mean something." He took a sip of his coffee. He had her right where he wanted her.

"Hmm. I knew it was either that or you feel sorry for me." She smirked and he replied with his 'don't say that' look.

"Of course, this means you have to wear a dress."

She looked so thrilled. "Yeah. Don't remind me." She rolled her eyes.

There conversation was interrupted by Hannibal's phone.

'Uh-oh,' Claire mouthed.

Hannibal glanced at the number and answered. "Doctor Lecter."

 

Hannibal met up with Eva at a cemetery. She was standing by the police tape overseeing the investigation.

"Morning, Doctor Lecter," she nodded.

"Good morning, given the circumstances," he nodded back, taking in the scene. He noticed something was off. "Where is Will?"

Eva chuckled. "He seemed a little worn out last time we talked, so I didn't even bother to call him in. This is all you today, if you don't mind."

He shrugged, then he and Eva ducked under the tape to get a closer look at things. They approached the investigators who were standing by a deep hole. From the looks of things, a grave had been recently been exhumed. There was no grave marker and the coffin was still there. It looked like it might have belonged to a child.

Hannibal looked down. "Whose grave was this?"

"Oh, you're not going to believe this." She crossed her arms. "It's Abel Gideon's."

Hannibal couldn't hide his surprised expression. "Gideon's?"

"We're all just as surprised as you. There's no one left that cared about him. He was only buried because of some church fund that takes donations so criminals can be given a place to rest as a sign of forgiveness. We've already talked to the members of the church. They didn't even know who I was referring to. When they checked their records, the name still didn't ring any bells. Everyone seems pretty devout, so until we find any clues, we can't point any fingers. Do you have any clue what kind of person would do this?"

Hannibal thought for a moment. The image of the Body Totem Pole flashed through his mind. "I'm not particularly sure. It could be for sexual reasons. It could be for what body parts are still in tact. Someone who is collecting in order to create something strange or just collecting for the sake of collecting. It was definitely someone who was looking for Gideon and knew where he was buried. A random digger would've called the authorities and a random grave robber would've looked for new or at least marked graves."

"Long story short: One sick bastard." Eva stared at the hole sternly. Hannibal shot her a dirty look. "Sorry."

"It's like you said, we won't know until we have more to go on."

 

"Gideon," Will pondered. "Who would want to steal Gideon?"

He and Hannibal sat at the small table by the window. After visiting the site Hannibal went directly to Will's to try and shine a little light on crime. Or at least that was the main reason he wanted to see Will, the other part was just for the sake of being in the same room as him. Either way this particular case bothered Hannibal, and now Will, because it was someone they both knew and not like they were close to the body in question; it was more of a 'of all the people' feeling.

"Someone very unstable," Hannibal stated.

Will chuckled a little. "We know it can't be whoever killed him originally. Whatever meat was left on him is useless now." Will accidentally glared at Hannibal a little as he talked.

Hannibal nodded a little in agreement. "It's someone who is in no way connected to the him, but someone who knew about him. Possibly, they felt a connection in some way."

There was a brief silence before Will changed the subject. "Did you see there was also a murder last night?" Hannibal shook his head. "Some late night jogger got grabbed. She was whacked on the head and an organ or two was taken." Again, he glared at his companion who didn't show any emotion. "Wouldn't be surprised if her murder is connected to the lady at the farmer's market."

"Do you suppose we have a Chesapeake Ripper copy cat to worry about?" Hannibal suggested.

"I'm still not convinced the original was taken care of." Will took a drink of his coffee.

"It's always a possibility, I suppose." A glimmer of praise shown in the man's eyes.

A car pulled up to Will's house, causing his pack of dogs to start barking. The door opened and out stepped Alana with her dog Applesauce who she unhooked from the leash and aloud to run with the others. Will rose from his seat and greeted her at the door.

"Alana," he said with a slightly surprised tone. "What brings you here?" He stepped back to let her through the door. He had a hunch or two about why she'd pay him a visit.

"I needed to talk with someone." She seemed shaky. "This thing with Gideon is bothering me."

"Welcome to the club."

She looked to her side and saw Hannibal sitting at the table.

"Good afternoon, Alana." He got up from his chair and kissed her cheek.

"Afternoon, Hannibal." The greeting was said with contempt; she was still a little bitter about their breakup.

Will had left the room and returned with another chair. Alana took it and sat between the two men making sure she kept a little distance away from them.

Will felt her tension. "Do you want a cup of coffee or anything?"

She shook her head. "I saw on the news that someone had dug up Abel Gideon's grave. Of all people-"

"It just had to be someone we knew."

"Will, I know you're working on the case. Do you have any clue on what kind of person would do that?"

"Isn't that the question of they day." Will chuckled a little and shook his head. "I haven't had anything do with this case yet, other than discuss it. Hannibal was the one out in the field today. Alana, are you worried it's someone who would want to be Gideon? Someone who'd want to pick up where he left off? And come back for you?"

Panic washed over her face as she leaned forward to place her hands on the table. "The thought has passed through my mind."

Will and Hannibal looked at each and then back at her. Hannibal took her hand.

"We'll make sure you're safe," he reassured her. Even though he had Claire now, he did still have some feelings for Alana and he was still protective of her.

"If it's any comfort, I'm pretty sure it isn't some Gideon worshiper, but, in the off chance that it is, then yes, we'll do everything in our power to protect you."

She didn't say anything and she didn't feel any safer.

 

"I still think you should let me cook," Claire said as she scrolled through a website on her computer. "It is my house after all and you're my guest."

Hannibal smiled as he fiddled with the food in the pan. "Cooking is my passion and you are no match for my skill level."

She place a hand over her heart. "Ow, my pride," she said mockingly. It immediately was followed by a giggle.

"Most people would be terribly insulted."

"Not me. I have no ego to deflate. I am crap and I know it."

"Claire---"

"I know. You hate it when I talk like that."

He covered his dish and sat next to her on the couch, which was put away this time. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"You are not the best at gourmet cooking, but you are great in other ways." She smiled at him. "You know your pop culture."

She went into full laughter. "And don't you forget it. Wow. What a useful skill to have." She then went back to her computer.

"Well, you never know until it's needed." He glanced at the laptop. "Anything interesting?"

She changed tabs. "Let's see. Well, according to Facebook, it looks like there's a celeb divorce, shocker; for some reason, Rihanna is trending again; and- oh. And someone stole from a Baltimore hospital."

He peered at her screen. She was already in the process of clicking on the link. "It says some medical equipment was stolen."

"Does it say specifically what was taken?"

She clicked on a link that lead to a specific website. "According to this one, it says a defibrillator, some tubing, and a pump-oxygenator. Why would anyone want any of that?"

"Good question."

"What is pump-oxygenator?"

"It is a machine that acts as a heart and lungs during surgery. It'll oxygenate blood and return it to the body."

"What? Is someone trying to play hospital at home? What is this? Saw 3?" Hannibal gave her a questioning look. "Oh. The main character was dying of cancer and had brain surgery in a meat cooler with stolen hospital equipment---and doctor."

"I suppose it could be that or it could be to sell them for money."

"You'd think if something was going to be stolen from a hospital it'd be drugs."

He left her side to check the food. "Desperate people will do desperate things." He agitated the food a little. "Our meal seems to be ready."

She got up, placed her laptop on the couch, and started setting her little table, which now had two chairs sitting at it. He brought the dish to the table and scooped it on the plates. As usual, it smelled fantastic. They continued the conversation as soon as Hannibal sat down.

"How does one manage to steal that kind of equipment for the hospital and get away with it?" Claire questioned when she finished chewing.

"Maybe they knew the layout; knew where the guards were at the time or if there were any cameras in the area. Could even be that _that_ particular hospital is under secured," he theorized.

"Well. I certainly feel safer knowing that."

"You shouldn't be surprised. This kind of thing happens all the time."

"True. We do live in a very corrupt and scary world. Every time I log onto one of my websites there's always something grim facing me. Another rape or robbery or like, recently with the desecration of that grave or what happened to that poor jogger." Her eyes got big as it came across her mind that she might be looking at the man responsible for that last thing she said. He met her gaze, understood it, and shook his head. It made her relax a little.

Lately, she had been confused about their relationship. She loved Hannibal, although she was still too frightened to tell him, and felt very safe with him. But then she'd remember what he does in his spare time and his eating habits and her conscience would start nagging her that he was no good (in fact: he was pretty convincing and charming after all. He could've be lying to her right now) and at anytime he could end her life and harvest her organs. Or what if he gets caught; what happens to her? But, she would also think that his murderous rage could work in her favor; that anyone who would harm her would have to deal with him, if she was unable to do it herself. She could even admit to herself that the whole cannibal thing was kind of intriguing and hot. It was all so complicated.

He took a sip of his coffee. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she answered quicker than she meant to. She didn't even realize that she had been so lost in thought.

He must've known what she was thinking again. "You're safe, Claire. I promise."

His words made her heart skip a beat and she smiled at him. He took her hand and smiled back.  
They talked about various random topics as they continued to eat. Claire finished a little before Hannibal, so she started doing dishes. While she did them she started singing, very quietly. It was possible she thought he couldn't hear her from that distance and with the water going, but he did. It amused him.

"What are you singing?" He asked gently in her ear as he put his plate in the bubbles. She wasn't expecting him to do that that and it made her jump a little. "It's quite lovely."

"It's 'So Small' by the ItaloBrothers," she replied. He could see red forming on her cheeks. "It keeps getting stuck in my head."

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I'm um----pretty shy about it."

"Will you at least sing a little louder, for me?"

She sighed and brought up as much courage she could muster as she sang the chorus, which was the part she knew the best. " _Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing is just a grain of sand. And what you've been out there searching for forever is in your hands. And when you figure out love is all that matters after all; it sure makes everything else seem so small."_ As soon as she finished she looked down at her feet trying to hide how scared she was.

He lifted her chin up so she was staring him in the eyes, which were bright with tears or joy, he wasn't certain. "That was beautiful. You didn't need to hide that from me." He kissed her passionately.

She spoke when they broke apart. "I guess I still have quite a bit of self-esteem issues to work through."

"You'll get there."

She grinned again as she turned to finish the dishes while he sat down and contemplated over the recent events that have happened and on what his plans were for his next hunt. With what happened with the jogger, it should be easy to cover his tracks. He always loved thinking about his next victim.

Behind him, Claire completed the chore of doing dishes and made her way to the chair across from him. When she walked by him, he grabbed her arm and guiding her to his lap. She sat princess style, as he brushed her hair back and started to nibble her neck.

"What are you doing?" she half whispered.

He didn't pull away from her neck. "What kind of question is that, Ms. Dove?"

There was a hint of seriousness in her tone. "I'm going to have to get ready for work soon." She had to grab his shoulder as he bit down harder. He also caused her to gasp.

This time he did pull away from her. "Are you asking me to stop?" There was a hint of tease to his smirk.

She stared deeply in his caramel colored eyes. He knew how to flip her switch. "What time is it?" She grabbed his wrist so she could read his watch. "Oh, what the hell? I got time." She smiled as she brought her lips to his. One of her hands was around his neck and the other was on his face. His were busy on her back.

They weren't in the lip lock long when Hannibal's phone rang.

"Seriously!?" Claire exclaimed.

Hannibal fished in his coat pocket for his phone. He checked the ID as soon as it was free from the pocket then answered. "Will?"

Claire laid her head on his shoulder as he listened to the voice on the other end. The hand she had around his neck was now fiddling with his hair. She loved the slick feeling of it.

"Alright, I'm on my way." He hung up his phone. "I've got to go."

"Fun fun, yes?" she groaned as she got up.

He started putting his jacket on. "Will wants to talk to me."

"Oh. Well, tell him I said 'hi." She tried to hide the disappointment in her tone, but it didn't work.

"Listen, I'll come back later tonight, after you've gotten off work. Is that alright?" He wrapped his arms around her. They stood forehead to forehead.

She beamed, "Of course it is. You know that."

"Then I will see you tonight. You have a good day at work." He kissed her then walked towards the door.

He had just unlatched it when Claire said his name. "Good luck today and please be careful."

He wasn't used to having someone sincerely care about him this much. The only thing he thought to do was nod.

 

Hannibal met Will at his office. The younger man seemed to be extremely bothered by something.

"I hope I didn't bother you, but I need to talk to someone." His voice was a little shaky from whatever it was on his mind.

"Not at all, Will. I always have time to help my friends." Even though he tried his damnedest, Hannibal was not able to hide the slightly discomposed tone in his voice. Will caught it and embraced it. He had his suspicions about where Hannibal was before meeting with him and felt it was good to keep him away from this Claire as much as possible.

"I had a nightmare last night, if you can believe it." He forced a laugh but it came out in the awkward way it always did when he discussed his subconscious. "It wasn't my usual type either. It was worse. It involved Alana."

Hannibal gestured Will to sit down at one of the chairs. Will was more than happy to place himself in the squishy seat.

"What happened in this new nightmare that seems to have you more frazzled than usual?" The sentence was so full of concern and caring.

"I'm at Gideon's dug up grave. Around it are footprints and blood. I see they lead way from the grave and I follow the tracks to Alana's place. It was just like the night he was going to attack her. The closer I get, the more apparent that I am not the only one there. I'm almost able to make out who the figure is until I trip. When I look up---it's gone. As I look around, I hear a heart stopping scream. So, I break in the door. There's no one there, except for the black stag. He looks at me and then walks to the kitchen. I enter the room, but I still don't see Alana, but I do see the rotting and falling apart form of Abel Gideon. He's sitting at the table eating some kind of meat. A severed arm is laying on the table next to his plate. He says something to me but that detail is long since forgotten. As I stare at him, I notice that his face seems to be hanging loosely on his skull. In fact it falls off of him. I hear the stag snort to the right of me and that's when I turn to see not only Alana's torn apart body but the gutted bodies of many other people. And that's when I woke up."

Hannibal took a deep breath. "It's apparent that you do not feel that Alana is safe."

"I want to believe that the person behind the body snatching doesn't want anything to do with her, but obviously, the thought will not leave me alone."

"I find that thought unavoidable as well." Hannibal paused as he thought over the other symbols in Will's dream. "The pile of bodies? Do you feel that the murdered jogger is connected?"

"Again, it's a thought that's come across my mind. A woman is murdered and had organs taken coupled with a missing body of a man who was known to gut people-- I don't know. I may just be grasping at straws. It could just be a coincidence and we're looking for two different people who have no connection at all."

"Anything is possible with humanity."

 

When Claire got to her apartment she was stunned to see Hannibal standing by the door waiting for her. She unlocked it and immediately placed her purse and laptop by the couch.

"You weren't waiting long were you?" she asked as she slipped off her shoes.

He replied with a simple "no" as he gave her a good looking over. She was still in her hotel uniform and had her hair up in chop sticks. She looked very professional and in order. Oh, how he loved order. And either, he was losing the ability to hide from her or she was learning how to read him because she called him out.

She crossed her arms. "I take it you like seeing the white collar me?" There was a hint of sarcasm to her voice.

"I apologize for staring, but it is a nice change seeing you look professional compared to the ---"

She interrupted him. "Compared to the slob you usually see?"

He glared at her. "That's not what I wanted to say."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you've thought it before. Every other aspect of your life is neat and tidy. And then there's me."

He could admit to himself that he'd love to see her more lady like. Maybe, wear a dress on occasion or make sure her living space was spotless. But he understood that that wasn't her style and to make her change would be, well, rude.

She shook her head in disbelief of how defensive she had gotten. "Look, I'm sorry. It's late and I'm unable to keep my thoughts to myself." She sighed. "Now that it's out there----I just don't know what you see in me. Why you are with me?"

It had bothered her for some time now. Along with questioning her morals and safety, she was also questioning whether he really cared for her or was more worried about his secrets. She really did feel they were too incompatible to be together.

"I understand that your past experiences have prepared you to defend yourself. In a way it's a good thing, because it does show that you do care about yourself." Hannibal embraced her. "And I am with you because you are different. Yes, your presence is a little more chaotic than mine, but everyone needs a little chaos to keep things interesting."

She looked up at him. "I suppose your "hobbies" are my chaos?"

He chuckled. "I suppose." His hand went to her cheek. "And about my staring at you: all I wanted to say was that it's a nice change from the same thing day after day. Not unlike adding a little more of a spice to a recipe. You love the original, you just needed a little more of a thrill this time."

She nodded. "I get it. The same thing everyday is boring. Been there/done that." They smiled at each other and then she changed the subject. "Regardless of how much you enjoy seeing me in my work clothes, I'm going to go change. I hate being in this Godforsaken shirt."

He smiled a smile, she had ever seen him give. "I was hoping you would say something like that."

He held her closer and aggressively kissed her, almost making her fall backwards. His tongue dominated hers. As soon as she pushed his jacket off, he freed her from the shirt she hated so much. She then fidgeted with the buttons on his vest and over shirt. They kissed and fondled each other passionately for awhile until Hannibal's phone rang and interrupted them once again.

"No. No. No," Claire moaned as he searched for the annoying piece of technology. "Will again?"

He checked the ID. "No." It was Alana. He answered. "Yes."

He kept Claire in his arm while he listened to what Alana was saying. She rested her head on his chest and looked up at him trying to read his expressions. He instinctively swayed back and forth a little.

It wasn't long before the conversation ended. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He sighed. "I am needed elsewhere, my dear."

He quickly straightened up and kissed her goodbye. When he got to Alana's he was surprised that Will had also been called.

"Will?" Hannibal questioned. "Is everything all right?"

Will smirked. "I'm not sure. Alana called me up saying she swore someone was outside her house. I haven't seen anyone since I pulled up."

The two men entered the house to talk to her.

"I'm sorry I called you guys so late," she started. "But I didn't know who else to call, just in case I was seeing things."

"What happened?" Will asked.

"I came in the living room to read a book and when I looked out the window, I swore I saw someone standing right over there." She pointed. "I'm letting my imagination get the best of me, aren't I?"

Nobody said a word.

She took a deep breath and held her hands on her face. "This whole Gideon thing has got me so----AAAHHHH!" She had tilted her head to face the window again and something had startled her.

Will and Hannibal both moved to see what she had screamed at and sure enough there was a figure standing where she had pointed. It was hard to get a good look because of how dark it was, but it was obviously a person. Will jumped up and pulled his gun out as he ran towards the door. Hannibal moved to calm the hysterical Alana.

The two in the house could hear Will shout something as the figure ran off. Whoever it was, was fast. There was no way Will could catch them and he knew that. He turned around and went back in the house. Both he and Hannibal convinced Alana that it was not safe for her there and that she needed to stay somewhere else for the time being. Hannibal offered her a room at his house, but she declined. She called a friend, who had welcomed her to stay with them, and then packed some of her things. She thanked Hannibal and Will for coming to her aid and then she left.

 

Hannibal debated on whether or not to go back to Claire's. He feared that she was asleep already, so he opted to go hunting. He drove home and got ready to go out. He dawned the plastic suit and he even had the next prey picked out. The perfect choice from his Rolodex. He was such a lovely prescription medication salesman.

He was a creature of habit too: went to the same restaurant at the same time every night, ordered the same thing, parked his car in the same parking spot, left at the same time, and even took the same road home. Every night like clock work. So naturally, it wasn't hard for Hannibal to maliciously set up an easily movable road block: a small tree that was large enough to block the small back road.

He questioned whether or not this gentleman was obsessive enough to actually get out of his car to move it. But he had his answer within ten minutes of baiting his trap. Sure enough the car pulled up and out came the salesman. He had sat in his car for a minute, probably debating whether or not he could actually move it enough to get through. He then stepped out of the car and examined the tree and that's when Hannibal took his chance.

After he got the body into his vehicle he moved the tree off the road. Then took the time to back the car up and angle it towards a tree, he slashed one of the front tires, and shifted it into gear. He placed a big rock on the gas pedal and watched the car take off. After it hit the tree he removed the rock, shut off the car, and left the driver's door open. He would return the body somewhere near the 'crash sight' as soon as he got what he wanted from it.

 

Will approached the crime scene sometime after Eva called him. It was at the edge of the park where the jogger had be found. The park was set up so it had a jogging/walking trail around a grassy area complete with a playground, picnicking areas, and a small pond. Off to the side of the park, was a wooded region.

"Good morning, almost afternoon, Will," she greeted him sarcastically. He nodded and looked around him, keeping tally of everyone and everything. "Have you eaten today?"

The question puzzled him. "Ummm. No not yet. Why do ask, Eva?"

"Because what you're about to see made me wish I hadn't."

They walked under the police tape and just a little ways into the woods just past the sidewalk. Will stopped walking when Eva did. He looked at her as to why and she pointed down towards a small pile of sticks, which were barely covering something red. Eva gave Will a pair of gloves to put on. With his hands covered, he moved a handful of the sticks to see what they were hiding. What could that red be?

"Holy---!" he shouted as he nearly fell backwards onto the ground. His big blue eyes focused on the skinned body laying before him. He inhaled as he gathered his wits. "When did this happen?"

Eva avoided looking at the victim and focused on Will. "The team says it happened sometime this morning, while it was still dark."

He nodded and pulled himself together more, enabling him to study the body and the surrounding area clearly. "Looks like he was hit with a blunt object and then dragged. And what was done to him was done here." He turned his attention to the head wound. "He was hit multiple times and it looks like he tried to crawl away." He lifted up one of the hands. He had to wipe some of the blood off in order to see that the fingernails were jagged like they had scraped against concrete.

He got up and walked back towards the side walk. Eva followed.

"So, what are you telling me, Will?" She stared at him.

"We're looking for someone smaller. One whack knocked him down. He panicked and tried to get away. The killer had to hit him two, three, maybe even four times before he was immobile. We're looking for someone weaker." He looked around and found something that caught his eye. "Why is his wallet out? His clothes are over there, tossed every which way but only his wallet is here out in the open."

"Another investigator noticed that too. She noticed his keys and phone were still in his pants pockets." She picked up the wallet and opened it. "Looks like everything's still in here: credit cards, ID, cash-"

"Once again, not a robbery." He thought for a minute. "He was lured here. Possibly by someone promising a good time or some other service."

"Wait, 'lured' and 'weaker'? Are you saying it's a woman?" Will shrugged. "Well, that certainly narrows things down." She rolled her eyes. "More importantly is this connected to the jogger or the farmer's market or the pharmaceutical salesman or the--"

He interrupted her again. "Pharmaceutical salesman?"

It hit her that they hadn't discussed that yet. "Oh. Right. Also this morning the car of a salesman was found smashed into a tree and the driver nowhere to be seen. Well, that is until police found his body a few feet away. It was pretty torn up and bits of the body were gone like animals got to it, but one of the paramedics noticed that the slashes were too clean and just a few organs were missing. Again, too clean for animals to be the cause."

"Do you have the pictures?"

They walked to Eva's car and she pulled out the file. He specifically looked for any pictures of the road.

He pointed out a detail to Eva. "This was no accident and he didn't just walk into the woods in a daze and got attacked by an animal. There's no skid marks. Unless, he didn't even try to gain control of the vehicle after losing control there should be skid marks."

Eva grinned. "My thoughts exactly. But is it connected?"

Will looked up away from the pictures as he connected the dots. As he stared into the woods he saw the shadowy stag walk away from the crime scene. "I don't think it is."

 

A few days pass and Hannibal invited Claire over for lunch. He was very tempted to share some of the meat from the other night's events with her, but he resisted, still respecting her wishes.

"Have I told you that you look a lot more rested lately," he asked her as they finished eating.

She blushed. "I wanna say it's been brought up before. But, um, thank you?" She looked at him for approval. He flashed her a small smile. "And I have to admit it has been nice to not worry about the diner, but it's also been strange. Like with any habit, you get used to it and then when you're not doing it anymore you don't know what to do with yourself."

"You should take up more hobbies," he advised.

She tilted her head a little. "Well, I have started doodling again; nothing I'd consider art. But I do have my computer. Really, though, I'm just happy with going to bed when I want and sleeping until noon if I want to. That is, if someone doesn't have other plans for me." She gave him a mischievous look as she sipped her tea.

He turned on his charm some. "I'm sorry if I disturb you, but I do enjoy your company and I must admit, I find you more attractive now that you are taking care of yourself a little better."

"I don't know how to take that." She smiled a little, her head tilted a some again.

"That reminds me. Have you found what you are wearing to the wedding?"

Claire was in the middle of another sip and the question almost made her choke.

"Well," she began as she scratched her head nervously. "I haven't looked at anything yet. But I'm going to go to the mall and get something this next paycheck."

He knew the wedding situation shook her up a little and he couldn't resist studying what she does when she's caught off guard. He smiled at her slight panic.

"I hope you find something comfortable."

"Hannibal, I'm going to be in a dress! There's going to be people all around. I don't see myself being comfortable no matter what I pick out." She chuckled a little at how ridiculous it sounded.

"You will be fine."

She shot him a look, then changed the subject. "So, um, I saw on the news that there was another murder, possibly two, the other day." He knew where she was heading. "Busy night that night?" Her eyes met his.

"I wasn't involved in either investigation, but from what I read, they were too far apart to be the same person in the same night. That is to say that the gentleman involved in that car accident was actually murdered."

"There was a picture of the car and the street. Granted it wasn't the highest quality photo, but it didn't look like there were any skid marks left by the car. The only other take on the situation, if it isn't an accident or murder, is that the guy tried to commit suicide." She still held eye contact.

His look turned dark as his mouth shifted to the sly smirk. "You are a clever one, you know that?" He couldn't help but enjoy her amateur detective skills, another trait that reminded him of Will.

She returned the smirk as she took his reaction as an answer. "I somehow knew..." She let that sentence trail off, then she lowered her voice a little. "I assume the Hellraiser reenactment wasn't yours." He didn't say a word but, again, she sensed the answer. "Didn't think you were into jerky."

He chuckled, irritatedly. "Clever, girl."

"Am I or did we come to some sort of understanding when it comes to your hobbies? Like, some kind of code or custom?" His expression was still dark. She tried to reflect it back instead of showing the fear she felt from the possibility of him acting on his killer instincts. "You know damn well you can trust me. Just forgive my fascination from time to time."

It didn't slip past him how transfixed she was getting lately (or how she always had been but didn't show before) about the murders, death, and his habits. "Why are you so fascinated?"

She was so taken aback she finally broke eye contact. She stared at her cup while she spoke. "I'm not entirely sure myself. The human body, well, death in general-- is interesting. Like someone, somewhere pointed out: human bodies can break limbs and heal no prob, but to some people, simply being around a peanut can kill them. Then when it comes to finding out who did what to the human body, forensics, it's amazing! Geesh! One of my favorite shows is 1000 Ways to Die. There's been segments on that the stick with me, like, the Spanish Inquisition tortures, the glow stick guy, and that German doctor that was trying to resurrect the dead, but ended up hitting a snake's biting reflex and more or less poisons himself."

"And when it comes to me," he added. "You feel you can get the facts first hand. Or is it more so you feel closer to me, knowing my secrets?"

Still she gazed into her cup, almost like she had to here a lecture about her grades from her parents. "I--I don't know, Hannibal." She shrugged. "I suppose that could be it deep down, but, I don't know, maybe I'm just curious. Or nosy; that might be a more fitting word for it."

He lightened up some. "Honestly, I can respect a want of an understanding of the human body and death." He took her hand and added something he needed to say to her as much as himself. "I do trust you. There's not a lot of people I can say that to."

"That has to be the smallest list on the planet!" She couldn't help but laugh.

He grinned. "You should feel honored."

She smiled at him, but it faded quickly as something came across her mind. "Going back to the original subject, why would someone want to steal a dead body, organs, skin- well, I suppose that can go with organs, and hospital equipment? It's all a little...Ed Gein if you ask me."

"What makes you feel that everything is connected?" Since no one was sure whether or not any of the recent events were really related to each other, it struck Hannibal as odd that she was the first person, out of all who he had discussed the topics with, who came to that conclusion.

She looked at him again. There was some emotion in her stare but he wasn't able to pinpoint which one. "Well, I just assumed, really. Or, it's possible, that I've got the Ed Gein story stuck in my head."

He tried to dismiss his feelings as he stared at down her hand. It was the first time he noticed that she had large scratch marks. "What happened to your hand, Claire?"

She turned her attention to the wounds. "Oh, that? One of the cats scratched me the other day."

'The other day?' he thought. 'Interesting.' He felt he should push for a little more information. "What did you do after I left the other night?"

She looked up at him questioningly. "Well, I took a shower, changed my clothes, and went down to feed the strays. I was petting one of them and another got upset and started a fight that my hand happened to get in the middle of."

He wasn't sure he believed her, but kind of enjoyed the thought of 'what if'.

"You weren't too badly hurt I assume." He studied the marks, they could be feline.

"Nothing that hasn't happened to me before. I'll live."

He chuckled, then let go of her hand. 'Let's move on.'

"Help me clean up," he commanded.

Claire nodded and began collecting her plate and silverware as she stood up. She followed Hannibal to the kitchen. The two washed and put away the dishes and then adjured to the living room. He went to get them some drinks. She decided she'd finally play around on his harpsichord.

He watched out of the corner of his eye while carefully pouring himself some wine and her water. He chuckled a little as she struggled to find middle C. She would play three notes and then move until she found it.

"What exactly are you doing?" There had to be some method to this madness.

The explanation came with a smile. "It's kind of sad, but I have to find the C key by playing the beginning of _All the Little Horses."_ She proceeded to play the lullaby. She even sang a little as her fingers tapped the keys.

"Again, a talent you hide from me?"

"I wouldn't call it talent. I only know how to play a few songs and only on one hand. I can't even do cords. Plus, I struggle reading the bass clef scale."

"Must not have had a great teacher."

"Yeah. I'm not that good of a teacher." Again, she laughed.

"Oh." He realized what she was hinting at. "You taught yourself?"

"Yes. I knew the treble clef very well because I played flute in high school. And we touched bass briefly, but mostly I learned from a finger chart my mother had from when she played piano."

"Why didn't your mother show you how to play?"

"She said she couldn't remember how to." Her face saddened. It still hurt to remember her parents.

Hannibal noticed and placed his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into the embrace.

"Why don't you play something else for me?" he said gently.

She nodded and began to play _Fields of Gold_. She'd get past the first couple of verses but then struggle with the next portion.

"Gah! I always have issues with this part!" she grumbled.

"That's a very lovely tune. What song is it?"

" _Fields of Gold_. We sang it in chair. Celtic Woman and Sting and some other chick have done versions of it. I love Celtic Woman's the most though."

He stared lovingly at her. "Is it too much to ask to hear your version of it?"

Predictably she blushed. "I have it in my computer if you want to hear it."

"That's not what I asked." He lifted up her chin. "I want to hear you sing it."

She smiled and began to play what she could as she sang. She stopped when she came to the section she'd struggle with. But he encouraged her to sing a'cappella. The loving look never left him. When she was done with that song, he insisted on hearing her sing another.

"You can't really enjoy my singing that much!" she nearly screamed.

He laughed. "Why can't I? And hearing you sing--" He trailed off. She looked up at him patiently, waiting for him to finish the sentence, but he never planned to. He asked, "What else to you know?"

" _Scarborough Fair._ But I don't know how to play that _._ "

He nodded in encouragement. And this time as she sang, he played along. She was very surprised, but then she remembered it is a traditional song; something he could respect unlike if it was Guns n' Roses or Lady GaGa or anything else modern.

By the time she ended the song, her whole body was shaking and her face was red. He told her once again that she shouldn't be so embarrassed by her abilities.

Claire shook her head as she tried to calm down. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how to do that yet."

He wrapped his arm around her again. "You're getting there. You can get passed this." He kissed her on the forehead.

She sighed as she leaned her head against his chest and thought to herself how strange, or even sad, it was that the only person (or at least the person who showed it the most) who believed in her was Hannibal, the serial killing, cannibal. Her complete opposite saw something in her that not even she could. But he was right. With a little help, she could find her strength.

"Are you all right?" He broke the silence that had formed as she spaced out.

"Yea. Just lost in thought. Sorry."

"It's ok. I am actually quite used to you doing that."

"No. No, don't say it like that. You make sound so horrible." She covered her face as she giggled. He couldn't help but giggle too. Eventually, she did straighten up and stretched. "You wanna try watching another movie? I got Dario Argento's Susperia with me. Or we can try one of the Saw movies. I've also got Puppetmaster."

Hannibal was not thrilled. "Do you just walk around with your movie collection?"

Sheepishly, she replied, "Sorta. I mean I get so bored at work, so I take my movies with me just in case and most of the time I end up forgetting they're in my bag and they just go wherever my laptop goes."

He shook his head. "Actually, I have some paperwork I need to take care of. Why don't you enjoy your films while I work?"

She accepted and set up her laptop on the coffee table. She sat on the couch for a good five minutes debating on what she wanted to watch. She eventually settled on Touristas: a movie about a group of friends who end up being kidnapped and harvested for black market organ trade. Again, another ironic choice. It made Hannibal question whether all her movies were of the horror genre.

As he did his work, he'd occasionally glance at the screen a see someone get killed. He'd then switch his gaze to Claire's face to see what she may haven been thinking. It was hard to tell. But, she did talk off and on. Inserting bits of trivia or asking him a medical question. Most of the time it was a sassy comment about whatever was happening.

As Claire enjoyed her movie and Hannibal did his paperwork, Eva met up with Price and Zeller in the lab. They were asked to take a look at the pharmaceutical salesman to verify if, in fact, he had been attacked by an animal. And without much surprise they were able to determine that the marks on the body were from knives and not claws or teeth, but no other evidence was found.

The skinned guy himself didn't show much, other than Will had been right about being hit multiple times. His ID was also ran through the system and sure enough he had been known and charged with asking for certain services. But nothing damning. However, a security camera from a nearby business did catch a figure arriving in and then getting out of a van. As Eva and the team watched, it also showed the figure returning to the van with something in their arms. It looked like it might have been a blanket or something, but due to the time and the crime that had happened there was really no doubt as to what it was.

The footage was in pretty bad quality and showed very little detail in face or plate number, partially due to the angle and distance. All they were able to gather was the figure was short, due to how they compared to the height of the van and they were feminine in shape and hair style. Van wise the team could tell it was a lighter color and older looking.

The team managed to get scrapings under the fingernails but it would take sometime to sort out what kind of gunk was under them. After all, if there was DNA from the killer, it was tainted with the victim's blood and possibly gravel and dirt. They'd have to wait a little longer for any kind of arrest.

But it wasn't long before Eva was summoned to another crime scene.

"What do we got now?" she asked one of the officers already on the scene.

"Male victim. Mid to late forties," the officer replied. "Had his arms and legs cut off and he bled to death."

Before Eva could comment Will arrived and made his way to her and the officer.

"Glad, you were able made it here so quickly," she said.

"I was in town." It came out in a grumbled tone.

As the two began to walk towards the victim they heard Hannibal shout out to them. He made his way to them and then followed them to the body. What a site it was. Their scene was out back behind a business. It looked as if the gentleman was taking out the trash when he was attacked.

"He came out," Will began. "And was taken by surprise with a good whack." He looked down at the body and noticed that this one also had multiple spots hit. "Or maybe two. I'd say it's the same person. And this person has a purpose."

"What do you mean?" Eva questioned.

"Think about it. Skin, organs, limbs--add a stolen body, particularly one that didn't have limbs. I think someone is trying to rebuild Abel Gideon or just some Frankenstein-ish monster."

"And if we add the hospital robberies, the pump-oxygenator, difib, tubing and the recent, heart monitor and blood, that does make sense." Eva looked around as she talked and noticed a bloody, rotary saw near the body. "And if I'm not mistaken this is the very saw that was taken from the hospital." She looked around some more. "Good! Guys!" She called out to investigators. "Camera. I need that footage." She then turned to Will and Hannibal. "Price and Zeller showed me what they could from a security tape from the last murder. You were right, Will, we are looking for a small, feminine type."

"I take it wasn't good enough quality to show much detail."

She shook her head.

Hannibal stood there and said nothing. He was deep in thought. Small and feminine and coupled with something Claire had said. He somewhat hated to think it. Could it be? Just how fascinated was she? He was sure he knew her enough to know better.

The next night, when Hannibal met Claire at her place, he decided to probe for answers. He loved a good enigma.

"Did you see there was another murder yesterday?" he began.

"Jesus! Really? I didn't see anything posted on the sites I was on today." She said matter-of-factually as she cut chicken breast for their meal. "What happened this time?"

"A gentleman was literally robbed of his arms and legs."

Her expression showed slight disgust. "Oh. Bet that was a mess."

"Indeed it was." He watched her cut the poultry. "And it seems your hypothesis of everything being related was correct. Even the robberies."

"Cool. I mean 'cool' that I was right. Not cool as in 'yea, murder'," she said as she placed some of the raw meat in the skillet and then looked up at Hannibal. His face was emotionless which made her's questioning. "Is everything alright?"

In a very stern voice he asked, "where did you go after you left my house yesterday?"

"Well, I went to work and then came home. What I usually do when--," she paused as everything suddenly came together. She took a deep breathe before saying calmly, "Wait! You think I had something to do with all this, don't you?"

"It has come across my mind, yes."

"Whoa! Just because I'm interested in forensics and crime shows doesn't mean that I'm willing to be on one as the main topic. I can't kill anyone. You, of all people, should know that. You've picked around in my brain and know me better than anyone else could."

"You've said it your self that you have the potential-"

"And I also have strong morals and a conscience that would destroy me if I killed anyone. For crying out loud, Hannibal, I don't even like killing spiders and I'm arachnophobic."

He never saw her this defensive before. He could feel and see her sincerity. Unless, she was as great a manipulator as him, he was convinced that she had nothing to do with these crimes other than an odd curiosity about them.

He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. Since she was messing with raw meat all she could do was lean into the embrace.

"I believe you and I apologize if I've upset you."

"I suppose I forgive you." She left the embrace and went back to her cutting. "I always worried someone would accuse me of something eventually. I can't blame them or you. It is pretty macabre and makes people uneasy. Especially, if they have to face it head first like you. You're just following your gut and training."

"Do you think your anger could drive you to it?" Now he was just curious.

"You're asking me if I can ever get angry enough to kill someone?" She stopped for a minute waiting for answer. She never received one, but continued anyway. "I--I don't know. I suppose. But, I'd have to be really, really, _really_ mad."

"Do you think you'd enjoy it?" He asked through an evil looking grin.

Claire was so stunned by being asked her hand slipped and cut not only the chicken but her finger. She immediately dropped the knife as a small 'ow' and a profanity escaped her lips. She quickly ran to the sink to wash and examine the wound. Thankfully, it was just a small cut, just a little deeper than the cat scratches.

As bad as it sounds, Hannibal was amused slightly. He did take a look at the wound to make sure she wouldn't need stitches.

"Are you going to answer my question?" He asked while holding her finger under the cold running water.

"I could've chopped my finger off and you're worried about _that_?" She shut the water off as the bleeding slowed down enough to where she could put on a bandage without immediately having to change it. She looked up at him, slightly angry.

"Forgive me, again, for being more concerned about your mind rather than your finger, which will survive." He grabbed a paper towel to dry her finger as her angry gaze stayed on him.

She didn't say anything at first. Her gaze fell from his face down to their hands.

"I might." She eventually replied. "If I'm angry to the point of killing someone, I'd probably enjoy it at first, but then really hate myself later." The way he held the paper towel around her finger aloud her to grip his hand lovingly, but her face was grim. He simply smiled. "I'm going to go take care of this."

As she left to retrieve a bandage and ointment, Hannibal took care of the meat that was cooking. It'd be a shame if it was ruined.

Shortly, Claire stepped out of the bathroom and walked up to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned her head on his arm. He smiled down at her.

"What are you doing?" She asked playfully.

He grinned. "The chief in me didn't want to see such a fine meal get ruined."

"You mean the chief in you just couldn't keep your hands off it?"

They both chuckled as she busied herself with the rice that had been cooking in a crock pot. The moment she lifted the lid the wonderful salsa-ish sent filled the air.

She smiled as she tasted a spoonful for quality purposes. "Mmmmm. Tastes just as good as when Mom made it." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was ok. She nodded. "The rice is done, so as soon as the chicken is finished we can eat."

He turned back around as the sound of dishes clanking could be heard. "Which should be soon."

Of course, he wasn't wrong. As soon as he announced it was done, she commanded him to sit down then she brought the food to the little table. He was very impressed with how the meal had turned out. She wasn't too bad in the kitchen. The only sounds in the one room apartment were her Spotify play list playing quietly in the background and sound of the silverware hitting the plates as they sat in a comfortable silence.

"I take you like this?" She asked, noticing that his plate was more than half empty.

"It is delicious. I'm very impressed." He flashed her an honest smile and she smiled back.

"Thank you."

"Your mother's recipe?"

"Well, she found it online--"

"Do you still feel bad about what happened? With your parents?"

She sighed. "It'll always hurt, but I am getting better. Thanks to you."

They finished and cleaned up as usual. Then they sat on opposite ends of the couch, talked and drank the contents of their mugs; Hannibal had coffee and Claire had hot chocolate. Claire had her feet up and her back on one of the arms while facing Hannibal.

"And then this one person posted a spoof picture of Dead Silence and I nearly fell off my chair laughing." She nearly cried laughing just thinking of the picture. He humored her with a light chuckle. Tumblr and horror movies really weren't his topics of choice. "Ha. I don't think I'll be able to take that part seriously anymore."

"Yes. Humor does seem to take some of the horror out if it." He took a sip from his cup.

"True, but it doesn't affect the quality of the story or the cinematic magic." The statement was accompanied with her mischievous smile. "I love watching the extras and learning how they do some of that stuff. Oh, like finding out that the Torso from Thirteen Ghosts was actually played by an amputee. They just green screened his head off."

He wasn't impressed. "Sounds like a wonderful piece of cinema."

"It's a great movie; at least, in my opinion."

"You do know, a person's choice of movies says a lot about their personality?"

She titled her head a little as she finished the contents of her mug. "Are we going back to you thinking I might be a killer?"

He just shook his head. "Although, one can jump to the conclusion that only a seriously unstable mind can like the horror genre but I find that it's merely a way for you to further your curiosity for death and forensics without having to be a part of it."

"Makes some sense." She placed her cup on the end table behind her.

He finished his drink at the same time. He instinctively looked behind him for a place to set it down, but found none. She held out a hand to take it and placed it with hers. He leaned to hand it to her and as soon as it was safely on the table she quickly moved, almost like she floated, closer to him. It surprised him how fast she could move sometimes. Neither one said a word as she placed one hand on the couch arm and the other on his thigh. He placed his on her waist as she carefully straddled him.

"Think we'll be interrupted this time?" she asked him playfully.

His hands worked their way up her back. "I've turned my phone off for the night." He planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

Their tongues danced as her playlist changed to Colton Dixon's _You Are_. She felt him get excited. They pulled apart and stared deeply in each other's eyes. He felt a since of pride knowing that he could make hers gleam with so much lust. She had moved one of her hands to his hair and was idly playing with it. He took her other one and kissed her palm gently.

Eventually, he pulled her hair and lifted up her shirt and bra and attacked her breasts with a series of bites that were sure to leave marks. It caused her to stop playing with his hair and, instead, she gripped the back of his head so hard he felt her nails scrape against his scalp. It wasn't long before he lifted the clothing up and off of her, so her torso was bare except for her necklace. He stopped his aggressive foundling and removed the scrunchy from her hair. He forgot how long her hair really was as it flowed down her shoulders, in small, beautiful, red curls.

He couldn't help but smile which brought a little red to her cheeks. He pushed her face to his, kissing her as she began removing his clothes. Not too long after his undershirt had come off, he practically picked Claire up and threw her on the couch, pining her wrists above her head. He then dove for her neck, giving it a powerful bite that would surely bruise. It caught her by surprise and she gave out a tiny gasp.

Hannibal was being incredibly dominating and aggressive this time----and she liked it. He stopped biting her neck and starting kissing and even licking his way back up to her lips, which he met with much excitement.

He pulled away and moved to her ear. He whispered, "Keep your arms where they are."

He glided down her body and removed the rest of her clothes. It took him a little bit to return to her face. When he did, she was grinning.

"My turn!" She wrapped her arms around him and attempted to flip him over on the couch, but, since she was a klutz, they ended up rolling onto the floor.

He chuckled. "Mmmm....graceful."

She laughed it off and proceeded to do as he had done to her. She took a break to catch her breath. It was the perfect opportunity for him to get on top of her, pin her down and attack her lips again. She seemed to enjoy herself, but he didn't want her in that position for long. He guided her to her knees and had her lean on the couch.

He kept his hands on her and as he thrusted he bit the back of her neck almost causing her to scream in pain. When he was done with her neck, he gently kissed his way up to her ear again and started whispering. He could feel her heart race with excitement.

Hannibal suddenly stopped, moved his hands from hers to her face, and turned her head towards him. Then, proceeded to shove his tongue in her mouth. To make things a little more comfortable, she turned her whole body to him and wrapped her arms around his neck as he slid his around her waist. When he was ready, he leaned back pulling her with him and guided her to where he wanted her.

 

Claire fluttered her eyes open as sun poured in through the window. She looked around trying to recollect when exactly she had fallen asleep. She saw she was on the floor, naked, laying next to Hannibal who was also naked and asleep and the rush of memories came flooding back. She quickly searched for her glasses so she could see what time it was. It was seven in the morning.

She decided not to get up or wake Hannibal. She just curled up next to him and ran over the events of last night in her head while playing with his chest hair. Although, she would never deny that last night wasn't fun, she felt slightly dirty and ashamed. He had been so rough last night. It scared her a little and she could feel the bruises and scratches he left.

He stirred a little, tightening his arm around her. She looked up at his face and saw he had turned to look down at her.

"Good morning," he greeted softly.

"Morning."

He kissed the top of her head. "What time is it?"

"After seven."

"Mmmm....apparently that was a little too much for us."

"Yeah."

He ran his fingers through her hair, his lips and nose were still resting on the top of her head. "It's a little embarrassing. Because, you know, I don't normally wake up in this type of situation."

She chuckled a little. "I know." It was kind of cute when he was the one flustered.

He let go of her hair and turned to to his side. He began to analyze the look in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yes" was all she said while trying to avoid looking at him.

"Claire. Look me in the eyes." She slowly raised her gaze back at him. "Tell me what's wrong?" He brushed some hair strands off her face before letting his hand rest on her cheek.

She couldn't lie to him, he'd know. "Just-- a little dazed from last night; I guess. I'll be ok."

He nodded. His untamed hair shifted some and covered part of one of his eyes, which were gleaming this morning. Staring in to them when they were like this almost made Claire forget his true nature.

"I apologize if I was a little--rough," he began, voice filled with sincere concern.

Her turn to nod. "It's alright."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She smiled.

He flashed her one back before pulling her closer and making their smiles meet. When they broke apart she snuggled against him again while he wrapped his arm around her.

He laughed a little before speaking again. "We can't stay like this. We are eventually going to have to get up and get our day started."

"I know," she giggled back. "I don't want to though."

"Come."

He sat up and grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket and turned it back on. As he sat on the floor she scooted up behind him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder while her head rested on the other one.

"Think they're going to need you today?" she asked, trying not to let it get silent, apart from her playlist which was still playing.

"We'll see," he said as the phone's on tone chimed. It took a couple seconds for the missed calls screen to come up, but when it did it showed he had two: one from Eva and one from Will and both had left voicemails. He safely assumed that there might be a couple of messages on his office and home machines as well. Something important must have happened. He immediately called Will back.

 

Last night while Claire and Hannibal were together, Eva had been called in to review the surveillance tape, which the owners were more than happy to turn over. The tape showed the van pull up and park, waiting for the victim and as soon as he stepped out the door, the smaller figured darted out from the van and attacked. Then, when the limbs were severed they tossed them in a cooler in the back, shut the doors, and took off.

Although it was still difficult to see the killer's face they were able to enhance the video enough to get a license plate number and run it through the system to get an owner. Now they needed the search warrant.

It couldn't wait 'till the morning, so Eva made a couple of phone calls and was able to get a judge to approve of it with in an hour. In the mean time she had called Hannibal and Will to let them know what was going on and to come in just in case they were needed. Will was on it, but of course Hannibal had turned his phone off. Will arrived shortly after Eva got the call that they had the paper work.

"Where's Hannibal?" Will asked. "Usually when it's this big you have both of us here."

"I can't get a hold of him." Eva shook her head as she gather up her gear. "If you can get to him, be my guest. I'm not waiting. I want this bastard taken down."

Sure after the Jackson thing, Will was a little leery of Hannibal "helping" but the man was brilliant and Lord only knows what damaged mind they had to face this time. But as Eva pointed out, time was of the essence.

Will rode with Eva to the address that the plate number was listed under. It was an old cottage-ish building on the outskirts of town. And sure enough, there was the van in question.

"Stay here," Eva commanded Will before exiting the vehicle.

Gun at the ready, she made her way to the door with three other officers in tow. Some others were still by their cars ready for anything. Will was not just going to sit in the car. He got out as soon as Eva reached the door.

They entered the tiny building. The first couple of rooms were empty, but then they reached a walk in freezer. Eva opened it and was shocked at what she found.

In the middle there was Abel Gideon's decaying body on a gurney. It was surrounded by machines that were connected to wires and tubing that attached to the corpse. Parts of his skin had been replaced with new bits from the gentleman in the woods. It was more than likely that the stolen organs had already replaced the dead ones and the machines were, at least, keeping those alive; for how much longer was a medical question none of them knew. Whoever was behind this monstrosity had already attached two of the limbs to the body.

Eva was stunned for only a couple of minutes but with her head clear again, she moved her focus off of the body and around the rest of the room. On the walls of the freezer, which was up and running to try and keep the body from decaying anymore, were article surrounding Gideon and his deeds, including his escape and the night he visited Alana Bloom.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" Came a voice from behind a metal closet, which was not part of the freezer's original design. The figure reviled herself. She was short, like what was said and very thin. Her hair was the lightest blonde imaginable, completely straight and just above shoulder length. Her eyes were just as light and sunken in. "The things you can learn from the internet."

"Don't move," Eva commanded and pointed her gun at this woman.

"I don't want to harm you. I just want my love," the killer pleaded.

"Your love?"

"Yes. Doctor Gideon was my doctor. He saved me. But I couldn't have him because he was married. Then all this Ripper nonsense came up and I lost him. But I can bring him back I know I can. Then I've saved him. He can be all mine!" She smiled.

They took this woman, whose name was Nicole, in for interrogation. She came quietly, only asking and showing concern for her little resurrection experiment. That's when Will, against his gut feeling, tried all three of Hannibal's numbers trying to get in touch with him but instead reached the messages prompt for every one. Will didn't like it; it was rather unusual for Hannibal. Then he decided to call Alana, hoping she could recognize the woman's outline.

"Will, I feel maybe you should analyze this woman," Eva suggested. Will nodded.

He asked Nicole a series of questions and learned that she was a patient of Gideon's who took his kind beside manner a little too personally. When the doctor was alive she stalked him, but never close enough to raise alarm. The obsession continued as she followed all the bits of his crimes, from the actual killing of his family right up to him being found dead in Frederick Chilton's home. She learned where he was buried when she joined a church and over heard someone talking of the charity that buried the criminals.

He finally asked her the question that burned within him. "Did you pay Alana Bloom a visit?"

With big innocent looking eyes she nodded.

"Why?"

She smiled. "I wanted to stand where he had once stood; to feel what he must've felt. I wasn't planning on hurting her. I just wanted to see what he saw that night you shot him."

 


	5. Flan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is Hannibal's date to a wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my fav part. It is just so....fluffy

Things settled sometime after Nicole was taken down and nothing out of the ordinary happened as Eva's wedding date finally arrived.

Hannibal arrived at Claire's apartment dressed in a tuxedo. He knocked on her door. Shortly after he heard steps approach.

"I'm almost ready just hang on," she shouted through the door.

He sighed as he looked down at his watch. "Claire, we should be on our way there."

"Just hang on."

"Are you at least going to let me in." 'Rude' he thought.

"Yeah. Just---wait a minute before entering ok."

He heard the latch of the lock and then footsteps running away from the door. 'What game is she playing?'

As soon as the steps stopped he opened the door and entered. She seemed to have scurried to the bathroom because she was no where to be seen in the tiny apartment.

"Claire?" He called out.

"In here." Yep. That came from the bathroom. "I think I'm ready now. Just---I don't go glam that often so don't make fun of me."

He chuckled. "You're going to have to come out of there some time."

As he stood in the middle of the room facing towards the closed door, it opened and out stepped Claire looking in a way he never imagined. She actually had makeup on, not much but enough. Foundation to cover her flaws, mascara, black eyeliner and light blue eye shadow, a touch of blush and lip gloss. Her dress was black, with a top that exposed her back and tied up around her neck and was surprisingly low cut, but it hugged her features in just the right way. The skirt was cut on both sides so her legs would be exposed form time to time and it reached down to just above her feet exposing her black, honest to God, high heels; not her boots, actual heels. Her hair was even done up nicely in a partial pony tail, smoothed out so there were no bits popping up.

Hannibal stood in shock for split second. It was a major contrast to how he was used to seeing her and she looked stunning.

Claire read it on his face but felt the need to hear it. "Well? What do you think?" She did a little spin around.

"You look enchanting." He approached her, grabbed her hand, and kissed the top of it.

She beamed. "You know, you're not so bad yourself."

He brought his hands around her waist and looked deep into her eyes. "May we make our way to the church now, as not to be late?"

She nodded as she grabbed her wallet and keys (which she planned on leaving in Hannibal's car). They left the living space and like a proper gentleman, he held out an arm to escort her to the car.

On the way to the church they chatted a little as Claire fiddled with her skirt, still nervous about the social aspect of the day.

He could feel her anxiousness. “You will do fine tonight, Claire, I promise,” he tried really hard to reassure her. “I know it's hard, but you shouldn't let what people think worry you.”

She looked out the window at the passing scenery. “I'll try.”

He glanced over at her and saw a small smile which he returned.

Will and Alana had beaten Hannibal and Claire to the church and were outside talking.

“Hate to be a cliché, but it really is a nice day for a wedding,” Will said to her, while looking up at the clouds.

“It is.” Alana stared at Will. “It's kind of nice seeing you dressed up.” She grinned.

“Oh, this is nothing. Wait till Hannibal gets here.” Will looked over at Alana, hinting about the new woman in Hannibal's life.

She just stared blankly at him. “What do you mean?”

“You don't know? About Claire?”

Will watched her put the pieces together. “He's seeing someone else? I had no idea. He's never said anything.”

“Well, you know how he is. He's pretty hush, hush about his personal life.”

Although, neither Hannibal nor Alana had ever come right out to Will about their relationship, Will had managed to figure it out shortly before they had broken up. It was during the period of break up bitterness did they confirm Will's suspicions. Although, he was furious that she had picked Hannibal over him, he still carried a torch for her and even though he did, he still felt a twinge of revenge at her reaction to the fact that Hannibal was now with someone else (and someone younger).

It actually wasn't long, before Hannibal walked up the sidewalk with Claire, beaming, at his arm. Will and Alana could see that whatever the conversation was about had Hannibal smiling too. It would be an adorable site to anyone who wasn't a former lover.

“Hello, Will. Alana,” Hannibal said when they made it to the front of the church. He than began his introductions. “Claire, you already know Will and this is my colleague, Alana.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Claire said awkwardly as she took Alana's hand.

“And it's nice to meet you, Claire, is it?” Alana did her best not to let her jealousy show through either her face or her voice, but it failed which caused Claire to wince a little. “So have you know Hannibal long?”

“Yea----for a few months now.” She felt a nervous twitch form and did her best to fight it off.

Someone came out of the church to let the guests outside know that the ceremony was about to begin and Claire had never been more thankful. She could feel that there was, once upon a time, something between Hannibal and this Alana and it just made everything uneasy. Once again, she took his arm and they all went into the building.

Inside was beautiful. The pews had been decorated with green and black bows and ribbons. Of course, there were the stained glass windows depicting parts of the bible and up front was the organ and candles, which were lit. There was also green and black flowers and other decorations up towards where the groom was talking with the officiant and guests and where the wedding part would shortly be.

Hannibal gestured to Claire that they should sit three pews from the back on the bride's side. She scooted in towards the middle and Hannibal followed shortly after.

He leaned over and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“So far so good,” she answered. “But this isn't the real social bit, so we'll have to wait in see.”

“You'll do fine.” He took her hand and kissed it.

Two pews behind them, Alana and Will sat and kept glancing over at the odd couple. Will still hadn't figured out what Claire was doing with him or how much she knew. Alana felt disgust rise up, at how happy they seemed to be. Even after all the time since their break up she was still having trouble with letting him go. Maybe she should talk it out with someone eventually.

As a matter of fact, Will was ready to help her: he saw the expression on her face. “I take it you're still not fully over him?”

As they watched, Claire and Hannibal were still talking and something said made Claire laugh. “I don't know why, but no.”

“Do you still care enough about him to let him be happy?”

Alana turned to look at Will. “Of course I do. It's just---after so long of wanting to be more than just a colleague. Then finally getting there--.” It was unlike her to struggle with her thoughts. “I thought I was ready to move on from Hannibal Lecter, but I guess I wasn't.”

“Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Alana. You need to let him go.”

Alana still hadn't picked up on Hannibal's hobbies and Will would do anything to keep her safe and away from Hannibal. Even if it meant convincing her that he deserved to be happy too, even if he didn't. Or did he?

'Is it ok for a monster to find happiness somewhere? Could a monster be tamed or just find someone to be a monster with?' Will was lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, music started playing and the doors opened to let the first pair of bridesmaids, who wore green, and groomsmen, in black of course, through. Then came two adorable little kids as the flower girl and ring bearer (Hannibal could hear a little “aw” come from behind him, which made him grin slightly). As soon as the little ones reached their spots the music changed and everyone stood up as Eva walked through the door and began to walk down the aisle. She was stunning in the not too revealing but not too modest white gown, with green accent. She reached her groom and everyone sat back down as the officiant began the wedding script.

As he talked, Hannibal looked over to see Claire's reaction. He could hear sniffles and sobs, with the occasional chatter and a baby cooing, but he was more interested in how his young companion was reacting. He didn't peg her as the type to cry, which she wasn't. She just stared up at the happy couple, obviously thinking about something.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw she was being watched and turned to look at him. She smiled and blushed as she settled closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around her, leaned to her ear, and whispered, “I see the gears are turning. What are you thinking about?”

She moved closer and whispered back, “Wouldn't you like to know?”

He grinned as he had his suspicions, but instead of being rude and continuing the quiet conversation, he held her close and kissed her forehead before turning attention back to event. Behind them, Alana and Will saw the exchange and winced a little.

At the alter, the bride and groom exchanged their vows. Their eyes filled with nothing but love for each other. The rings were placed on their fingers as they repeated the words the officiant told them. Then, they were pronounced husband and wife in front of the attendees. The church erupted with cheers and clapping.

Soon after, everyone exited and stood outside the church holding bottle of bubbles to blow at the newly weds as they walked to their car. It was definitely prettier than birdseed or rice; less messy too.

“So that's the FBI lady,” Claire said beginning the conversation. “She's very pretty. Surprised you didn't go after that.”

Sometimes, Hannibal had a difficult time determining if she was joking. “We've talked about this, Claire.” He quickly looked over at her. She glanced over him, sheepishly. She must've been joking. He tried to lighten up a little. “Besides, she was already taken when I met her and she's not my type, either.” She giggled a little. That really wasn't the response she was expecting.

They arrived at the reception hall and found the banquet hall for Eva's wedding party. Again, everything was beautifully decorated green and black. Will, Alana, and a bunch of the other guests were already there and more were do to show up. Alana was mingling with some people, not too far away from the door when Hannibal and Claire walked in.

Claire took a deep breath as she saw the large group of people around them. 'I can do this. I can do this.' She kept thinking to herself. She felt Hannibal's hand on her back. It reassured her a little.

Alana noticed that they walked in, excused herself from the conversation she was having and walked over to them. “So what did you think of the wedding?” she asked.

“It was a very lovely ceremony,” Hannibal answered quickly, knowing someone at some point would ask. Claire nodded in agreement.

“Oh, by the way. Found out where you guys are sitting at.”

Hannibal glanced over at Claire and then back at Alana. “We must be at the same table as you then.”

“Yeah. And Will, Price, and Zeller. Seems Eva kept her FBI teams together.” Alana smiled and lead them to a table not too far from the table the newly weds and company would be sitting at.

Claire was introduced to the investigators and then took her seat, which Hannibal pulled out for her. He then sat down next to her as they began light conversation. Hannibal did most of the talking bringing up pretty much anything but his relationship, which of course was what everyone wanted to talk about. Claire could feel eyes drifting towards her off and on already making her quite uncomfortable. She didn't add much input to the conversations.

The reception finally started and Eva, her new husband, and the rest were introduced and took their seats. The speeches were given and then dinner was served.

“I think that is the most I've ever seen Eva smile,” Price said as he took a sip of champagne.

“You know, I think you're right?” Zeller chimed and the rest of them nodded.

Except for Claire. “I take it normally she's a hard ass?”

“I wouldn't say she is a hard ass.” Price tried to think of a way to describe Eva.

Will added a bit for him, “No, it's more of a passion kind of thing. She's just pretty serious when it comes to saving lives.”

Claire nodded in understanding.

“She's actually a pleasure to work with,” Hannibal added before taking a bite of whatever was on his plate.

“Speaking of work: what do you do for a living, Claire?” Alana asked.

“I'm a desk clerk at the hotel downtown. It's not really as exciting as your guys's jobs.”

Zeller tried to lessen the awkwardness for Claire. “C'mon. I'm sure you've got some stories.”

She blushed a little and thought of something. “Well, there was this one night, I got a strange phone call at about five fifteen in the morning, almost when my relief arrived. Dude sounded drunk. First he asked to talk to the manager, who wasn't in yet. This guy didn't want to leave a message or call back or anything and just kind of kept mumbling things. Then out of the blue he just says “one of the truck drivers at your hotel is hung like a bear.” And I'm just like, “what?” and he repeated that one of the guests was hung like a bear.” As Claire talked she and the others couldn't hold back their laughs, which made it hard for her to finish her story. “I just sit there for a second, letting that sink in and he goes “I'm sorry if I offended you.” I honestly answer that I wasn't really offended just freaked out as to why he felt the need to tell me that. Then I hear a 'click'.He hung up on me!”

Price was in hysterics. “Seriously?!”

“Yes! I just sat there staring at the phone in shock. And that is not the strangest one either.” Claire then began to tell them about other strange phone calls and conversations. She'd also bring up some of the not so funny stories involving things that made her lose faith in humanity.

She seemed to be able to keep her anxieties and phobias under control at least with the people at that table. But shortly after everyone was done eating and the cake had been cut, it was announced that the dancing was to begin. But first the throwing of the garter belt and the bridal bouquet.

All the women gathered up front to try and catch the flowers. At first, Claire was skeptical. But, Hannibal and, surprisingly, Alana encouraged her. Yes, during dinner Alana had begun to come to terms with her feelings and felt that Claire was alright. A little shy, but alright. They stood next to each other, towards the middle, but still off to the edge. Claire expressed how awkward she felt and how she was never lucky enough to catch the damn thing the whole two or three weddings she'd ever been to.

“Hey, you never know.” Alana smiled at her.

Eva stood at the front a ways and with her back to the flock of women.

“Alright, ladies,” she chimed into a microphone the DJ handed her. “Here we go! And good luck!”

She gave the microphone back and then flung the flowers over her head. With, the quickness that always threw Hannibal off, Claire reached out and caught them, at a surprise to herself. She wasn't sure how to react but all the others including Alana and Eva congratulated her.

She was very red faced as her and Alana made their way back to the table.

“Was that as bad as you thought?” Hannibal asked Claire as she sat down.

“Slightly. It'll be worse if you catch the garter.” Her face felt warm at just the thought. She didn't remember much from the weddings she'd been too but she did remember that tradition.

“Now. Since you said that he probably will,” Price joked.

Claire gave a gaspy 'oh no' and then covered her face in embarrassment. Meanwhile, on the dance floor, the groom took the belt off his bride in a very PG-13-ish way, causing Eva herself to turn red.

“OK, gentlemen, who wants to try and catch the garter?” the DJ bellowed as the crowd wooed and cheered.

At that Hannibal, Will, and Zeller made their way up with the rest of the fellows. They all settled and the groom flung it at the men. And sure enough whose hand clasped around the green and black fabric, none other than Hannibal Lecter's.

Claire's eyes got huge as she brought her hands up to her face. Alana and Price clapped their hands and laughed. As she looked towards the front, Hannibal was grinning while Zeller and Will laughed.

Will picked up on Claire's personality traits. “She's going to be furious you made her the center of attention.”

He chuckled and turned to Will. “I know, but I am curious as to how she will react. This will probably be good for her.”

Will smiled and shook his head as he walked off. Hannibal slowly made his way back to the table too; almost strutting.

“Now will the young lady who caught the bouquet earlier join him up here on the floor?” the DJ called out.

“I know that young lady very well. She won't come up here easily,” Hannibal smirked at the DJ.

Hannibal picked up the pace a little as Claire continued her small, gaspy 'oh no's. She stood up holding the bunch of flowers as Hannibal reached her.

“I- I don't want to do this,” she whispered. Her face was still red and she was on the verge of shaking.

“It's ok. I'm here.” He placed a hand to her face. He felt her relax a little. Then he picked her up off her feet and carried her back up to the DJ who had a chair at the ready. The room was full of giggles, cheers, and wooing.

“Oh, I hate you.” She, not quite seriously, glared at him.

“No you don't.”

He placed her gently on the chair and then took her hand in his, kissing it sweetly.

The DJ was caught off guard a little but didn't lose the professionalism. “Alright! Now the fun begins.”

At the ones she'd been too, Claire remembered how wild the men who caught the garter were with the women that caught the flowers, but Hannibal wasn't like that. He stared deeply into her eyes for a few seconds, almost causing her to forget where they were. And just as sweetly as he had put her down and kissed her hand, he knelt down by her feet and slid the garter on her leg. She didn't know what everyone was thinking and for once, didn't care, but it caused a slight arousal in her. When he was finished he brought himself up to her face and passionately kissed her, causing the other guests to go wild again.

When Claire realized what was happening she pulled away from him quickly, slightly shocked that she forgot they were the center of attention.

“Still hate me?” he teased her.

She snickered as he placed a hand around her waist and led her back to the table.

The DJ resumed his duties. “Alrighty! It's time to dance! Will the happy newly weds lead us off?”

“Had fun up there?” Will teased them as they sat down again.

Claire hid her face as everyone around her had a good laugh. A Celion Dion song was playing in the background.

Zeller said through his laughter, “I'd take that as a 'yes'.”

Claire's hands eventually dropped down and fiddled with the flowers. Occasionally, flashing a loving glance up at Hannibal, who hadn't taken his eyes off of her since they returned to their seats.

In fact Will and the rest had been talking about something and the songs playing had changed a few times, but he was too deep into his thoughts. Part of it was the attraction he felt for her and the way she was dolled up tonight, but most of it was studying her reactions to the social environment. He knew she was terrified like a deer in the headlights but she was doing a fantastic job of covering it up. He had to admire and was thankful she had that skill, since she knew so much about him.

He eyed one of the flowers in the bouquet. It was a white rose that didn't look like it had been handled much, if at all, during the whole ordeal; not a petal out of place. It was perfect. He gently pulled it out. It had been dethorned. Good. He then, placed it behind Claire's ear. Instantly her eyes brightened. He didn't say a word, just smiled.

Something caught Claire's eye and she motioned for Hannibal to look to his side. Eva was standing next to him about ready to tap his shoulder to get his attention.

“Doctor Lecter, I'm so glad you could come. And you Alana. Will. Price and Zeller.” She nodded as she said everyone's name. “And you as well---”

“Claire,” Hannibal said as the two ladies shook hands

“Thank you for having me and congratulations.”

Eva beamed, before leaning down to speak softly to Hannibal. “Congratulations to you, Hannibal. I didn't even know you had a girlfriend. She is _cute._ ”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Claire must've heard the comment. She was blushing again. 'Eh, she is, isn't she?' he thought to himself. Then he turned his attention back to Eva.

“I think, I'm going to go hit the bar,” Price said standing up.

Zeller stood up too. “Yea, I see a little cutie over in that direction I wouldn't mind meeting.”

“So there's someone I want to introduce you to, Doctor Lecter. He's a professor at one of the colleges. He's real big in psychology. I know you'd like him,” Eva nearly sang.

Hannibal turned to Claire who was fiddling with the flowers again. “I'll be right back.” She nodded and he followed Eva.

The music shifted to a slower paced song and couples on the dance floor moved in closer.

Will decided to take a chance tonight. Even after Alana had shot him down and lost faith in him, he asked her if she'd like to dance. She felt it couldn't hurt and accepted. They walked up to the floor and left Claire alone. It wasn't the first time something like had happened to her.

She continued to focus on the flowers. They really were pretty; green, black, and white of various types of flowers. The bow was pretty too. But as she sat alone with her thoughts, she swore she heard someone mention the awkward couple. Did she just hear someone else question whether she had been abandoned by him? To her left she thought she heard something about how desperate either of them must've been. 'Go get a room!' She might not have heard any of it, but there were so many conversations going on at once. She felt her heart race as she began to panic. 'He said he wouldn't leave you alone' she thought, immediately followed by 'I need some air.'

She got up from her seat and made her way quickly out one of the doors to the side of the room that opened out to a sitting area set up so guests could enjoy the view of a lake (or large pond, whatever it was). The area was surrounded by a small, waist high fence. She took a deep breath when she reached it. She held onto it as she looked out at the water.

Inside, Hannibal had finished talking to the professor [he was a decent fellow; knew a thing or two, but still had a lot to learn]. He walked back to the table only to find it empty. It was still a slow song and he didn't seen Claire dancing with anyone, although he did see Will and Alana, and Will needed to brush up on his dancing some. He scanned the rest of the room. Found the other two at the bar, but no Claire. He half expected her to follow one of them around since she had gained some comfort with them. Eventually, he saw her through one of the big windows. Before he made his way out he talked to the DJ.

Outside, Claire tried to calm herself. “I'm ok. I'm ok. Nobody cares about you.”

“I care.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she quickly turned around to see Hannibal.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “I-- That is not what I meant.”

“Is it safe to assume that you had a bit of a panic attack. Felt that every eye was on you? Or that every conversation involved you?” He glanced in her eyes trying to read them.

She leaned back on the rail. “Yea. Deep down, I know it's not like that.”

“Good.”

“I'm sorry. I am trying.”

“You're doing very well, Claire. Imagine if I had asked you to do any of this when we first met. Could you have?”

She thought for a minute. “It's hard to say for sure, but I suppose I couldn't have.” They shared a smile. “Thank you. I honestly feel that you've changed me somehow.”

He stroked her face again. “Sometimes, I feel the same way about you.”

She beamed as he gave her a kiss and then stood forehead to forehead.

“Let's go back inside,” he commanded softly.

He held the door open for her and they walked back into the building. She made her way to the table intending to sit down, but he stopped her and nodded at the DJ. The current song finished.

“And now, we've got a special request,” he announced as Nickelback's Lullaby began to play through the speaker.

“May I have this dance?” Hannibal whispered in Claire's ear.

She nodded and took his hand. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Don't worry. I will guide you.”

He took her hands and placed one on his shoulder and kept the other in his. His other hand sat on her waist. He gently guided her in a ballroom like dance.

“This was your request?” she asked him in awe.

“Yes. I admit to skimming through the music on your iPod. This one caught my attention and I gave it a try. You do know that the music one picks describes one's mindset and feelings better than anything else?”

She nodded knowing exactly what he was talking about.

He continued after a moment. “Such sad lyrics, but they made me think of you. Claire, I want you you to know that I really do worry about you. And that you are never alone. At least, not anymore.”

Somehow she held eye contact with him and got lost within the music and the moment in general. It felt as if everyone else faded away and it was just her and Hannibal......The Cannibal. The one person whom she felt the best connection with and who cared so much about her, and he was a God damn killer. And not just any killer; he ate the people he killed. Yet here he was ballroom dancing with her and occasionally mouthing the words.

_If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone. And if you can't tell how scared I sound, because I can't get you on the telephone. So just close your eyes. Here comes a lullaby._

'Mouthing with the words? And it's not a song he'd normally enjoy. How often does he think of you,' she thought. 'But what way does he think of you?' She was so confused. 'Shut up and just enjoy this moment. You know deep down how you feel about him.

'Do I?

'Yes, I do.'

The song neared ending and he aloud her to wrap both her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. He moved his hands to her back and slowed their movements. The song ended and they still embraced each other. It wasn't until the room filled with cheers and woos again did it hit them that they had been somewhat the center of attention.

“Oh, sh---” Claire said hiding her face in his chest.

“Now, my dear, there's no need to be rude,” he teased her. “Bow to our audience.”

Smiling, she followed his lead.

The festivities lasted until well after midnight. Hannibal decided to take Claire back to his house, partially because of time, part of it was a need to analyze her, and another part was something else.

“Not going to lie, it feels good to get those shoes off,” she told him as she took a glass of water from him.

“I'm glad to be away from what they called music.” He had taken off the tuxedo jacket and joined her on the couch with his own glass of water.

“I thought you were going to lose it when Sexy and I Know It came on.” She started giggling, then stopped when she saw the expression on his face. “Sorry.”

He put his glass down and turned to her. “Besides the anxiety attack, how did you think you handled this?”

“Well, besides that, it was actually pretty fun toni---Hey. Are you examining me? You're not my doctor anymore, Hannibal.”

“True. But I am a psychiatrist and the human mind is one of my passions. And as I've said before, I do worry about you.”

“Fine,” she sighed. She placed her glass on the table, took the scrunchy out of her hair, and laid down on the couch with her head on his lap, mocking the stereotypical 'patient laying on the couch'. “Yes. I had fun. But I still don't know how to feel about being the center of attention. Twice!”

“There are two ways to handle that.” He began to play with her hair as he spoke. “You can see it as a big embarrassment and regret ever catching the bouquet or dancing with me or the whole day itself. Or you can take it as a compliment. That you were doing something worth their attention.”

“I don't regret it. Any of it.”

He looked down into her eyes. “Then, you were heavily complimented.”

“I'll try and convince myself of that.”

He knew the expression on her face. “You look like there's more you want to say.”

“It's just.....It's silly.” She sat up and avoided his gaze. “It's a feeling that I hadn't had since high school dances.”

“Tell me.”

“I had a couple moments of comparing myself to everyone else. That my dress is kind of cheap looking compared to everyone else's or my makeup is terrible. Essentially, I didn't feel as pretty as all the other ladies. Oh my God that sounds stupid.”

Somehow he knew that this issue would come up. He was pretty used to it not just from Claire but anytime a female, and even some of the male, patients brought up a wedding this was always the topic matter: how the person he was talking with compared to the other guests at the event.

Claire continued. “I know that's childish thinking but I don't know how to fight it. And your friend, Alana, wasn't helping-”

“Just stop.” He had his hand raised slightly. “There is no need to compare yourself to anyone. A lot of that kind of thinking is worry that your significant other is going to be more attracted to someone else. Is that correct with your thinking?” She pondered that for a split second and then nodded. “Then put your mind at ease. No one else got my attention like you did.”

“Not even Alana?” The question had been burning in the back of her mind since she felt that tension in front of the church.

“No,” he answered flatly. Of course, Alana _had_ gotten his attention, but he fought it off reminding himself that _that_ was over.

She had to ask. “Were you involved with her?” He glared at her and didn't say word. “Sorry. I was just curious. I felt a little hostility when we first met, I just wanted to know if that was the reason.”

He sighed, not really thrilled about the subject of his past relationship. “Yes. We were together. But now we are not. Now I have you.”

She looked down as she smiled and brushed hair out of her face. He too smiled and looked down at his watch. It was getting late and he had planned to hunt.

She noticed. “Were you planning on going out tonight?”

“I already went out. You were there with me--” he quickly answered, avoiding answering honestly.

“That's not what I meant.”

He flashed that smirk of his, not offering any other detail.

Her tone turned quiet and slightly dark. “I'll stay here. That gives you an alibi. If anyone asks, we spent the night together. Go hunt.”

He looked at her in slight amazement, then leaned over, and kissed her. Maybe this was a good thing that she knew and stuck around. Maybe.

He was almost out the door on his way to get ready when she spoke again. “Please, be careful, Hannibal. And good luck.” She smiled again, but this time, there was a twinge of evil to it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated with a couple songs for Hannibal to pick. Lullaby seemed the most 'his feelings for her'. And off and on I questioned how open he'd be with her and about her. How he was with Will and his reaction to Jack seeing Alana in his house in nothing but Hannibal's shirt kind of helped me out. I do remember Googling how weddings went because I myself have only been to three in my whole life and the dates are so spread out...


	6. Frangollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new and sadistic killer emerges and Claire is one of his victims

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. **At this part there is rape (not in any gory detail) and torture**

It started the night of the wedding. A young woman had disappeared without any trace of what had happened, other than her car, purse, and other personal belongings were left outside a gas station. Everyone tried to call her cell number, but it would go straight to voice mail. After the twenty-four hour waiting period, the police began to investigate, but found no clues as to whether the young lady was kidnapped, murdered, or just simply ran away.

That is until her naked and beaten body showed up four days later in a back alley, buried under some trash. They only clue as to what happened to her were markings on her left arm: a horizontal line connected to a vertical line topped with another horizontal line and then another vertical line leading down from that. One of the officers who saw it felt it looked familiar.

Everyone was shaken up over just the one body, but soon another girl was taken and then another and another. Six more girls were taken and then they'd turn up in parks, yards, alleys, just anywhere the killer felt to drop them and each one had strange markings carved into their arms. It was the third girl that reviled what they meant: the killer was playing a game of hangman.

When girl number four turned up they decided to get the FBI involved in hopes to construct a pattern or something. Will was the one who pieced things together.

“If you look the girls who were dumped after four days,” he began, as he looked at the pics of the victims. “Their little man didn't hang. She just had the gallows. This one had up to an arm. And she just had the head. But this girl, the one that was found two days after being abducted, hers is finished.”

“So what are you saying?” Eva asked him.

“It's punishment. They don't comply they get a mark. If they finish their little guy, he kills them.”

“Then if they don't, he kills them after four days.”

Will nodded.

When five [made it do day four] and six [finished her man within a day] were found Eva pushed for a pattern.

“He doesn't have a specific type he's after he's just grabbing these girls when he can.” Will began as he sat with Eva, Hannibal, and even Alana.

“He doesn't seem to care about anything because he's abducting at all hours of the day and anywhere. Taking a new victim right after he disposes the bodies wherever,” Alana added.

Hannibal interlocked his hands before speaking. “He seems to care enough about wanting them found. He doesn't put much effort into covering them up, when he does.”

“I think he's angry. Maybe he doesn't get much attention from women and he really wants to. Or it could even be for empowerment. I wouldn't even dismiss fame as a reason.” Will looked at how beaten the bodies were. The ones who didn't play by the rules more so than the others. “The only pattern we really have right now is he's sneaking up on them at their cars.”

“He's not stupid.” Alana shook her head. “He's making sure his face is covered so the cameras or witnesses don't catch a glimpse of him. His DNA is not on record so he's never been in trouble with the law before or at least gotten caught.”

Hannibal sighed. “The witnesses that have come forward say that there was someone watching the girls and that they wore a hoodie. But nothing else. It seems the best that can be done right now is to tell everyone to take precautions and hope this killer gets cocky enough to make a mistake.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Just-- if any of you can think of anything else, even if it seems miniscule, call me!” Eva was back to her take charge self.

That night Hannibal had stopped by the hotel to escort Claire to his house for a late dinner. She followed him into the kitchen venting her frustrations about being protected.

“Come on, Hannibal, you didn't have to escort me here. I think I'd be ok from the front entrance to the car to here.” She didn't yell it, but it was very close. She watched as he freed himself from his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and put on his apron.

“I feel I should keep you as safe as possible since there is a killer running amok,” he said grabbing a pan from the cupboard. She folded her arms and gave him a look. “You know what I'm talking about.”

“You're talking about the Hangman Rapist.”

“Yes. And since he's just grabbing girls without any kind of a meaning-”

“You worry about me. I know.”

“You're taking this too lightly, Claire. He's dangerous.” He stopped grabbing cooking essentials to walk up to her and place his arms around her waist. He lowered his voice. “Even more so than me. And I hate to think of what could happen to you.”

Her arms were around his neck and she met his eyes and kept her voice at the same volume as his. “I'm a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“If only I had that much confidence about it as you. We know nothing of this man, you may not stand a chance.” He held her close.

“Well, you can bet your ass, that I'll do my best to take a chunk of him with me.” She brought her lips to his. She could sure talk tough, but she'd never been in a real fight, other than drunk Evan. She was just as scared as Hannibal was that she was all bark and no bite.

“That, I can believe.” He let her go and went to the fridge.

“So what are you making tonight?” She asked him.

He pulled out a pot of something that must've needed time to sit (maybe marinate or something). “It's [insert something pretentious sounding]. Are you going to try some tonight?”

She was very tempted. Everything he cooked smelled so good and whatever that was, was no exception. It smelled good just pulled out of the fridge; what would it smell like cooked?

She finally made her decision. “I think, I will tonight.”

His expression was stern. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. She couldn't really believe herself. But how can she argue for her bravery if she was too scared to even try his food?

 

In the morning hours, three days later, the seventh body was found outside a hospital, of all places. The vehicle that pulled up had been caught on camera. The time stamp showed it was before five a.m. It was a beat up looking car with no license plates and the driver wore a hoodie, obscuring his face.

Eva called Hannibal to discuss the subject. He invited her over for lunch to talk in person.

“We are dealing with someone who is arrogant. He may feel entitled to these women, their bodies, and their fate,” he told her.

“At least with great arrogance comes a great chance of a slip up,” she nodded. “But we need something now. Before he kills again.”

“Still no fingerprint match? Dirt samples? Residue?”

Eva shook her head. “There's no match involving him and the databases. Dirt samples have shown nothing out of the ordinary that leads to a specific place. There's just nothing damning yet. And he's do to pick up number eight; if he hasn't already.”

Later on in the evening, Claire was scheduled to work the late shift and she was making her way to the hotel. Hannibal called her sometime after Eva left, in an attempt to make her promise she'd call him or even text him, something, as soon as she made it to work to let him know she was safe. As much as it irritated her, she agreed. She did her usual check of having her phone, iPod, computer, and keys before she left the apartment.

She walked out to the passenger side of her car and unlocked it. Then she placed her belongings on the seat. Normally, she'd walk around the back of the car, sit down, and head off to work. Not tonight.

When she unlocked her door she failed to pay attention to the figure that had emerged from the shadows and charged up behind her. She only noticed him as she started to walk behind the car, but it had been too late; he tackled her and brought her to the ground. He was positioned in such a way that she was unable to kick or knee him in the testicles, but she was able to headbutt him in the face, but that had hurt her as much as it hurt him. It did stun him enough to where she could throw him off of her.

She struggled to get up. As soon as she did though, he tried to grab her again and regain his control. The struggle led to her being pinned with her back against the vehicle. She kicked and clawed and swung as much as she could. Eventually, his hood fell down to show his face. That's when he slammed her head, hard, against the back, driver side window. She was lucky it didn't shatter, but unlucky that it knocked her out. He picked her up and took off with her.

Ten after ten, Hannibal had not received a message of any kind from Claire. It worried him, but he didn't panic until ten thirty. He gave her phone a call but there was no answer. He decided to call the hotel number just in case she forgot or decided he was being paranoid and didn't even bother.

The voice on the other end, which wasn't Claire's, gave the hotel greeting.

“Yes, I am trying to get a hold of one the employees, Claire Dove,” he said, on the verge of holding his breath.

“I'm sorry sir,” said the male voice. “she's not here. She's supposed to be, but she hasn't showed up yet.”

He kept his cool long enough to say thank you to the clerk and immediately dialed Eva's number.

“Hannibal are you sure her car didn't just break down somewhere?” Eva asked.

Hannibal wasn't thrilled. “If it had, the first thing she would've done was call me for help. Also, I called her phone and there was no answer.”

“How well do you know her? Are you sure she didn't just take off? Or---”

“Eva! I know Claire better than she knows herself! She would _not_ just take off. She wouldn't fool around on a day she works and if she was in trouble and was able to call for help, she would! Something has happened to her.” He was frustrated, but was it more so being blown off, not believed, or the fact that Claire was missing.

“Alright. I'll check things out. Meet you over at her house or apartment and we'll take it from there.” She gave in. “You do know we really don't get involved until the twenty four hour waiting period is up, unless it's a child we're talking about? I'm only doing this, because it's you. If you feel strongly that something is wrong---”

“I do.”

She sighed quietly. “What's her address?” Eva wrote down the number he gave her. “I'll see you in a bit.”

Hannibal arrived before Eva did. Sure enough there was Claire's car in the parking lot. He wanted to check things out for himself, but decided against it and waited for Eva, who arrived ten minutes or so later.

He nodded in the direction as soon as she walked up to him. “That's her car over there.”

They walked up to it and immediately Hannibal saw blood droplets on the ground. 'She told the truth when she said she wasn't going without a fight,' he thought. Then he peered in the window and saw Claire's stuff just sitting in the car.

“Hannibal?” Eva turned to him.

“She'd never leave her purse and computer in an unlocked car. That laptop is her most prized possession.” He noticed her iPod was at the ready to be played on the way to work. He pointed to it. “And she never goes anywhere without that.”

“Sure sounds just the same as the other girls. That's enough for me. I'll call in to start getting things processed. Then, we'll check for cameras and witnesses.” She looked down and noticed the blood droplets. “We'll take samples of that too. Find out if it is our guy or someone else.”

He nodded and ran his hand over his forehead in complete disbelief. He just knew it was the same guy; that his Claire was girl number eight. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the stray cats run by, probably waiting for food that may never come again.

A ways away, Claire regained conciseness and was startled by her surroundings. It was obviously a basement. It would've been completely dark if there wasn't a little light shining through the poorly boarded up windows and a door at the top of a stairway. There was also one of those digital clocks that not only shows the time, but the date; it was after midnight, the tenth.

She should be at work, where it was quiet and safe. Instead she had been kidnapped and was taken to a dark, musty basement, chained with her hands up to a wall, and was---naked? Yes, the monster had stripped her of her uniform and undergarments. Something else registered as she was coming back to all her senses. There was a pain on her left arm. It also felt wet. She was pretty sure she knew what it was. The game of Hangman was about to begin.

She remembered the detailed warning Hannibal had let her in on. That she had until the little man was hung or at most four days before she was to be killed. 'Either way I'm dead,' she thought. 'I'm _not_ going down without a fight.'

Suddenly the door opened and a light was turned on, blinding her for a split second as her eyes adjusted. When they focused, she studied her surroundings. Her clothes, and many other articles of clothing, were tossed in a corner. There was also a table with various sharp objects among other things. There were blood stains everywhere. Then she saw the man walk down the stairs. He had taken off his hoodie and was wearing just a pair of jeans.

“Good. You're awake,” he growled. “I got a little worried I'd hit you too hard, number eight.”

She glared at him and said nothing.

“I'll admit. You're the feistiest one I've grabbed so far.” He checked to make sure the shackles around her wrists were secure. His hand then drifted down the middle of her chest. “It's going to be a shame when your four days are up. But we got some time. Let's make it memorable.” He tried to kiss her, but she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. She knew what would come next.

He stumbled back a little bit from being caught off guard. He looked at her.

She was smiling. “Oh, I plan on it.” She wasn't sure if she was being brave or just plain dumb. Either way there was that very slim chance of making it out alive.

“Do you know who I am!?” he screamed, causing an echo through the basement. Good. It told her it was useless screaming. Someone would've heard that if there were neighbors or if there was someone else upstairs.

He continued. “The papers call me the Hangman Rapist.” He giggled. “It's kind of silly, but I had to think of a way to allow strikes and punishment with what I do. I mean I completely understand why anyone in your situation would do what they do.” He made his way to the table and grabbed a knife. “I figured the game of hangman was simple enough.” He moved quickly and brought the knife to Claire's face without actually cutting her. She didn't flinch. “But you know. That, that you just did. I'm going to give you that one.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he placed the knife back on the table. “I'm going to go rest up some. I'll be back down later.”

Before he left he turned on a little desk lamp that was sitting on the table, probably set up set up so the only thing brightly lit up was the tools of pain and intimidation while the victim was kept in the dark. It was also silhouetted him making it difficult to see his face, but he could easily see the victim's.

She sighed, relaxing just a little when she heard the door shut. She looked up at the clock, knowing that the thirteenth would be her death date. Unless, she could figure out something or if the FBI and Hannibal got to her first.

'Oh, Hannibal,' she thought, causing her heart to twinge. 'You were right. I should've taken this more seriously. I'm sorry.' It led her to one of her internal arguments.

'There's no time for should'a/would'a/could'a. Think! You've ran over scenarios like this all the time! Thanks, horror genre!

'But those are just movies.

'True, but there's elements of truth in them.

'Right. Think....think.'

She scanned to room as she thought. She had a wide variety of weapons to choose from if she could just get out of those chains. But how would she do that? What if he had plans in the event of an escape? What if he had a home court advantage? She had four days, starting now, to figure out something; if she could. And at least she had something to think of to give her mental strength.

 

Hours after Claire's disappearance, Eva had received word they had the security camera tape in hand and they began to study it for any clues. The camera had been too far a way but there was no mistaking that blurred image of Claire carrying out her laptop to her car. They watched as the figure, who fit the description that they had, tackled her and she put up a fight.

“Damn! She was a scrapper,” Eva said as she watched the almost animalistic way Claire had fought to try and get out of Hangman's clutches. It was the third time she watched the video. She noticed something different with each viewing.

By the fifth time, it hit her what had happened. He had been dehooded! Now was the perfect time to ask the people in the apartment building if they'd seen anything.

Eva gathered up a group to take with her to ask questions. She planed on having two teams of two on each of the three floors, going on both sides of the hallway. Claire was now their number one priority and they now had less than three and a half days at most to find her alive and bring Hangman to justice.

As she was picking who was going, Will walked into her office.

She looked up. “Will, what are you doing here?”

“Hannibal told me what happened.”

“How is he doing?” She asked.

Will shrugged. “You know how he is. He's playing it cool and trying not to let the situation bother him. But I can tell he's upset.”

“Do me a favor, will ya? Keep an eye on him for me. I know I'm going to need him when this is all said and done, maybe even sooner, but I don't want him too emotionally compromised.”

Will stared at Eva questionably. She hadn't know Hannibal long enough to know that he was good at hiding what he wanted to hide. Specially, when it comes to the FBI. “I don't think you'll have to worry about that.” After all Hannibal was able to hide Claire from all of them for the longest time, not to mention, other parts of his lifestyle. “Agent, Mi- I mean Bradford, it looks like there's something else on your mind.”

Eva looked down for a moment and then looked back at Will. “Yes, actually. I just watched the video from the camera outside the building that's next to the apartment complex. Actually, I watched it a few times, and, I'm a little astonished at how much of a fighter she was.”

“It astonished me too, when I found out.”

Will quickly turned around and Eva looked passed Will to see Hannibal standing in the doorway. They both made a small gasp noise.

“Hannibal, what-?” Eva began.

He interrupted. “I want to offer my help in anyway possible.”

“I don't think-”

“Please.”

Eva turned to Will for any guidance he could give her. He nodded.

She inhaled slightly before speaking. “Alright. Right now, though, there's nothing I need from either of you, other than to stand by for when I do. I'm taking a bunch of people to interview every person in that building. Hannibal, you and she have done quite a bit to get us a break through in this case. We'll find her.”

He nodded, his face emotionless. “Even if she's not alive when we find her, I know she'll do everything she can to help us.” Then him and Will turned to leave, so Eva could go get her job done.

 

Midnight, the eleventh came either too quick or too slow, either way she wasn't sure, for Claire. The day had been full of torture. Nothing of the sexual persuasion, at least not yet, unless you count how he probably got off on see her squirm and bleed. He'd even beg her to scream, and hit her in the face, giving her a black eye when she didn't during the cutting she received. During the shocking was another story.

She hung against the wall, feeling exhausted and frail. 'This was only day one,' she kept telling herself. 'Hang in there.

'Ha ha, hang. That would have be funny if it this was a horror movie and not real life. Why can't this crap stay fictional?'

She felt the various sized cuts on her face, stomach, breasts, arms, and legs bleed. She knew some were deeper than others, and most would scar. The points the electrical cords had touched her still tingled.

“Stay strong,” she said out loud, surprised at how raspy and weak her voice sounded. She closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek and over a cut. She whispered, “Hannibal.”

She took a deep breath of the cold, musty air and looked up at the hook the chain was attached too. 'It's just drilled into the wall. I wonder if I mess with it enough, it'll work loose.

'That's probably been tried before.

'Then maybe it's worked loose already or if I continue what the others have started...'

She started twisting and lifting herself up on her chains. Time was running out.

 

As luck would have it, someone _did_ see something that night, but didn't go the police right away. They did work with Eva and a composite artist to put together a sketch of what she had seen.

The witness said she had her window open that night and heard a loud thud, which come to find out was Claire's head hitting the window of her car. She looked out to see a dark haired man, roughly in his forties, rough looking face and features, looked to be in decent shape, carry the woman off somewhere in the woods, probably where his car was hidden.

The sketch was in the news that night and in the papers and all over the streets by the next morning. The hardest part followed. They had to wait for someone to recognize the face.

The blood droplets were in the process of being tested, but it would take some time. And no other evidence was found at the site.

Meanwhile, Hannibal went about business like he always did, making sure to keep his deep worry hidden away from everyone, except Will.

“I'm terrified for her, Will,” he admitted, staring into the fireplace in his office and keeping his back towards his friend.

Will walked over to his desk and noticed a picture frame that wasn't there a week ago. He picked it up and saw that it held a photo of Hannibal and Claire from Eva's wedding. It was a shot of them during their dance where they had their arms around each other, angled just right where it showed both of their grinning faces.

Hannibal caught Will, out of the corner of his eye, holding it, a small smile of his own forming on his face.

Hannibal chuckled. “To think it was Eva's big day and she gives _me_ a gift.”

“You have to admit, it's a big of a shock to all of us,” Will chuckled, as he brought the picture over to Hannibal. Then he placed a caring hand on his shoulder.

Hannibal smiled down at it. “It's the only photograph I have of her. She doesn't like having her picture taken; hates looking at herself and says she's ugly.”

Will looked up at his face and saw that a few tears had escaped his eyes. The last time that it'd happened they had been talking about Hannibal's sister, Mischa, and Abigail Hobbs, a young girl they both had taken a fatherly liking to. They both tried avoiding the conversation of either of them as much as possible.

“There must be something about her you found beautiful then.” Will turned his attention back to the picture.

“Yes and it is why I fear for her.” Will looked up, puzzled. “Claire's smart, strong, and independent. Normally, those are good qualities, but in a desperate situation, I worry she'll try to be brave when in reality she's actually doing something idiotic.”

“Either way she's dead, so she might as well try something that get's her little man hung before the four days are up.”

He nodded, taking the frame from Will. “She's a great learner and loves graphic horror movies; she might even try something from one of them.” His dark eyes met Will's. “Do not take this the wrong way, but she would sometimes remind me of my sister. I think it was the child like curiosity or the way she'd be with animals, but it was something that would remind me of a happy, innocent time.”

Will was shocked at the flow of emotion and even more surprisingly at the sincerity (although, a feeling of a missing detail was present).“You really lo--”

“Yes.” He refused to let Will finish his sentence. He felt the same way Claire did about the phrase.

 

The eleventh bled into the the twelfth, as Claire's second day of torture ended. This time along with cutting, came whipping, and the ill awaited sexual abuse. Hangman had lowered her down and attempted to put his erect member in her mouth but she chomped down as hard as she could, which wasn't much considering all the pain she was in and the little sleep she was getting from passing out. It might have left a bruise, when she really wanted to bite it off. Regardless, the little man doomed to be carved into her received his head hanging from the gallows.

He let his bruising heal some as he cut more into her. When he wasn't thrilled enough cutting her, he burned her with incense. When he was ready to try something sexual again, he was met with her pushing him away with her feet. It angered him enough to where he grabbed her by the throat and warned her that his hangman would only have a head, body, two arms, and two legs.

“No, freakin' smiley face.” He shouted as he carved the hangman body into her arm. “You have four strikes left.”

'I better save them,' She thought as she didn't fight him off again.

She could feel herself become more angry than anything else. During her breaks she'd spend her time working the hook loose. She prayed he'd never notice, as she saw it move a little more with ease. She continued to put strain on the weak structure. She was starting to plan on what to do when the time came.

 

“We are on day three of this young lady's ordeal. And we barely have any leads!!” Eva tossed a manilla folder on the table as she nearly screamed at the people gathered around her in the meeting room, among them were Hannibal, Alana, Will, Price, and Zeller. “Lab: what do we got?”

“Still nothing on any DNA matches,” Price said.

“Or fingerprints,” Zeller added bluntly.

“Unless, she's finished her hangman she's got today ahead of her and then he finishes up and kills her,” Will added, avoiding looking at Hannibal.

“Then he'll grab someone else later tomorrow. Do you see why TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE!?” This was the most angry she's ever gotten. She sat down, trying to calm herself. “This girl has given us something new to work with, he now has a face. Plus, Hannibal here gave us a head start that we never had before, and yet we still haven't got anything. And I can't imagine what she is facing right now.”

No sooner did she finish the statement an intern knocked on the door. “We just got a call from someone who says that the sketch looks just like their co-worker,” he said excitedly.

They arranged for the gentleman to meet them in headquarters to give the info.

He told them that he works with Hangman at a local nutrition shop, even been to parties at the guy's house. He said when it came to the men he was usually buddy, buddy with them, giving them advice on what products work for what results and other things along those lines. But when it came to the women, he was a chauvinistic pig. He'd look for any excuse to take off his shirt or flash a not well defined muscle at them. When they'd ask for legitimate advice he'd go on about how pretty he'd find them and that they should go to his house for private lifting or whatever. Of course, complaints about it would go flying to the manager in bulk, but this guy always wormed his way out of punishment.

He then told the story of the first girl to disappear. Hangman had hit on her and when she rejected he almost hit her, but managed to hold back. The coworker then said that he heard him muttering about how he was sick of all the 'womanly bull crap' and that he would not be denied. The man's conversations would somehow always come to the Hangman Rapist articles and segments from the news. He didn't come forward before because he didn't really have enough proof to say if he was or not, but then he saw the composite sketch.

The coworker willingly gave a name and an address for Hangman. At lightning speed she gathered up Will and a couple of extra officers to go and check it out.

They arrived at the address and knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, to which there was no answer. Not even a scream. Since it was an apartment there should have been some kind of noise and without a warrant, they couldn't investigate.

Back at HQ, Eva told the gang to search the name to see if anything, even the man's first parking ticket shows up. She pushed for a warrant, but it had to wait.

In the meantime, Hannibal was starting to lose his emotional control in private.

 

It was after midnight, the day that was meant to be her last. Hours ago, the torture was turning more violent and her desperation grew stronger. He tried, again, to violate her mouth and again, it was met with a chomp. He carved an arm. He got his face a little to close and she kneed him in the nose. There was another arm.

“You know, I think when I'm done with you, I will add the smiley face to your guy. You've been an adventure,” he said in her ear as he sodomized her.

“Even more so than the one that lasted only a day,” she said through her teeth.

“Her's were more insults and weak attempts from a weakling. You are strong, number eight. I like that in a woman.”

“I hope you fucking rot in Hell!!!”

When he flipped her over, she took the opportunity to spit in his face. One more leg, that was all she had left.

She cried after he left. 'This has to work. Oh, please, please let this work,' she begged in her mind as she worked the hook again. It was defiantly coming out, but how many more tugs would it take?

 

Claire only had hours, maybe even minutes, before Hangman would kill her and leave her body somewhere to be found. And Hannibal was at wit's end. He convinced Eva to let him and Will look at victim seven hoping for anything to jump out at them.

Will was only able to interpret how Hangman had tortured her in various ways and on her forth day, 3 strikes later, he had sliced her throat from one ear to the next.

“He was trying various ways to kill them,” Will chanted as he was still in his trance. “Poisoning, strangulation, gutting, severing arteries, each is unique.”

Nothing really giving detail to a place. That is until Hannibal picked up a scent. It was very light compared to smell of death, but it was there. It wasn't a pleasant smell.

Will looked at him oddly, as he inhaled deeper trying to place a name or a memory to such a smell.

Hannibal turned to him. “You don't smell that, do you?”

Will shook his head. “If it's not the corpse smell, then no.”

“It's an unpleasant smell that's almost as strong and distinct as death.” He closed his eyes, inhaled again, allowing his mind to wonder. His vision took him to a farm, on the outskirts of town, possibly one he passed on the way to Will's house. He smelled the smell and heard....squealing? The fragrance has an origin. “Manure.”

“What kind?” Will's eyes beamed with anticipation.

“Pig. I'm thinking of the farm just outside of town. I pass by it when I take a certain route to your house, Will.”

“I know what farm that is. Are you sure though, Hannibal.”

He nodded and the two men turned to go find Eva, but instead she about ran into them.

“Good, guys, breakthrough.” She was ecstatic. “We ran the name of the guy from the nutrition store and it came up with two address for him. One: the apartment; the other: a farmhouse---”

“Just outside of town, near a pig farm?” Will finished.

She nodded. “You guys figured that out too?”

“Hannibal smelled it on the body.”

“Are you certain? If you are, then I'll organize the take down team in a heart beat. I trust you two.”

With an expression most serious, Hannibal said,”I am one hundred percent sure that is where this body was when it was living.”

“Let's go!”

With that, everyone sprang into action; grabbing guns, bulletproof—everything, the works. God only knew what they were going to find in that farmhouse.

Meanwhile, Claire was waiting for the footsteps she was both dreading and anticipating. She had one shot at this and hopefully the hook would stay in when she needed it and fall when she was ready.

Stomp....stomp....stomp....here they come. She watched as he almost strutted up to her, holding a wooden baseball bat.

“Here we are. The big day,” Hangman sang. “Did you have fun? I sure did.” He squished her face between his fingers. “You should feel honored to have spent this time with me.”

“You know,” Claire began. Her heart racing hoping this would work. “You're so right.” He eyed her wearily. “Don't you want to have a little more fun, before it's over.”

He smiled, evilly at her. “A last request. I knew you were different. What did you have in mind.”

She tried her hardest to sound as sincere, pleading, and sexy as possible. “I want you to give me one of your good lickings. Your tongue is so skilled.”

It must've been the right mix of tones. “Alright. Is that want you want, number eight, baby? Is it?” She inserted little moany 'yea's whenever he asked her. “Ok.”

He set the bat down off to the side and lowered himself. With all the strength she had left, she pulled up on the chains lifting her self onto his shoulders, wrapping her thighs around his neck to put him in the tightest thigh lock she could muster. He struggled for air and started pounding his fists and scratching at her legs trying to get her to loosen her chocking grip. But between desperation and adrenalin that was _not_ going to happen. She fought through the pain.

It seemed like forever, but he finally went limp. She held on a little longer just to be sure he was out. She remembered from school that the body will pass out first to try and save oxygen before it dies, if the airway is unrestricted before then. She finally let go when she was confident he was out. She didn't know how long though.

She tugged on the chain a couple of times, hoping it would fall, but it didn't. But a thought had occurred. He usually had keys with him in his pockets, she heard them jingle when his pants hit the floor. And since today was suppose to be the day he killed her, he must have the shackle keys in his pocket.

“Monkey feet don't fail me now.” She moved her feet over his pockets and felt something hard in one. She worked her toes around his belt to try and bring him a little closer so she could maneuver better. It took a little wiggling and a cramp or two but she found them. Pulling on the chain again. She awkwardly, and painfully, brought her foot with the keys up to her hands. She gasped as she brought herself upright. She was flexible, yea, but doubted if she was _that_ flexible. Well, she proved herself wrong.

Eagerly, she fidgeted with the keys, begging that one of them was the right one. After about the third, or fourth, maybe even fifth one, she felt it fit and then turn.

She gave a squeaky cry of “Yes!” as her arms were finally able to return to her sides. They felt weird after spending all that time up in the air.

Like a newborn foal she staggered to her clothes or at least what she could grab quickly, her bra and pair of jeans. It was good enough especially, with the threat of him waking up any minute.

 

Eva and her crew including Hannibal and Will arrived at the house. She was going over the battle plans with a couple of the agents and officers. Paramedics stood by, ready for the beaten and/or dead body they were about to take in.

“Hannibal, Will, I need you back over here by the ambulance and out of the way. I don't like you guys being here, but I have no time to argue, and I don't want anything to happen to you two. And Hannibal.” She met his eyes. “If she's alive, I understand that she's going to need you.”

As, Eva was directing everyone, someone shouted “I see movement” causing every able person to raise their gun. The front door opened....

 

Claire grabbed the bat and keys unsure what kind of traps or alarms or anything could be set up in this hellhole. She pushed the basement door open with a bat and moved it all around her, not unlike a blind person, testing for trip wires or even lasers. So far she had found neither.

Her surroundings were old, musty, and dusty and very misleading. It just looked like a little old grandma's house that hadn't been taken care of in years. Expect for the kitchen where apparently he'd enjoy a snack and a cold beer while he was here.

Still holding the bat in front of her she made her way to the front door. There were bright lights shining through the windows and what cracks were on and under the door. She wasn't sure what was going on. Did she really die and this was the light at the end of the tunnel that some people swore you see at death? Could even be aliens for all she knew. Whatever it was, it was blinding, but welcomed compared to the pit she had spent the past four days in.

She carefully opened the door and swore someone shouted something. She held the bat up as she took cautious steps out into the light.

“Drop your weapon and hold your hands where we can see them,” a voice somewhere commanded.

She lowered the bat but didn't drop it. Her arm went up to try and block some light so she could see who was talking to her.

“I said drop your weapon!”

She was very disoriented.

Hannibal eyes eventually focused. He recognized it was Claire and shouted, “Claire!” as he bolted from his position beside the ambulance.

“Hannibal?” It came out with a groan, but she mustered up some energy to run towards the place the voice had come from.

“Doctor Lecter!” Eva shouted after him.

He was far away enough from everyone where there was no one to stop him. He darted past them all and met Claire halfway between the officers and the house.

He took off his coat and covered her in it before embracing her in the biggest hug he'd ever given anyone. All while gently saying “You're safe, Claire, you're safe.”

Her bruised, beaten, and cut body hurt against his touch but it was the loving touch she had longed to have again. She immediately started crying when she felt his strong arms around her. “I was so scared I'd never seen you again.” She sobbed into his shoulder.

He shushed and rocked her as he whispered. “I was too, but you're safe now, Claire.”

Hannibal looked over her head and saw Hangman emerge from the house, a gun in hand. He quickly turned Claire away from the door, putting his back towards the house as a gun shot rang out around them. Claire looked up at Hannibal; he was fine. Then they both turned to the house to see Hangman on the ground. They whipped their heads to the other side to see Eva had her gun in the air, apparently she had taken the shot.

 


	7. Teja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire learns something shocking in the hospital and later confronts Hangman once again.

It was too much, Claire passed out in Hannibal's arms. He picked her up and carried her to the paramedics who were ready for her. He hopped in and rode with them to the hospital. He filled out the paperwork they handed him.

At the hospital, they took pictures and patched up all of Claire injuries while she was passed out. Some of the deeper cuts required stitches; the smaller just needed antibacterial ointment and bandages; the burns were all pretty minor, but painful.

When she woke up she was confused at first to where she was, but quickly caught herself up to speed. She pushed the button for the nurse, knowing there was stuff that still needed to be taken care of. She signed off on every test they wanted to perform on her to make sure she had not suffered too severely, physically anyway. She wasn't aloud to see Hannibal until it was all said and done.

Eventually, a doctor walked in to talk to Claire. She introduced herself and began to tell her the results on some of the tests and exams.

“Let's see, what we can tell you right now, is you don't seem to have any broken bones, although your shoulder was dislocated slightly from hanging and, um, bending the ways that you did. No signs of serious infections. You did receive some tearing from the sexual assaults. They will heal just fine though.” She looked at Claire, who listened intently for something devastating. “We also ran a pregnancy test, like you agreed to. It came back positive.” Claire moved forward to ask if it was Hangman's but the doctor stopped her. “We're going to take you to an ultrasound here shortly to find out how far along since you answered that last time you willingly had sex was about a month ago. Don't panic yet.”

They took her to the room and lubed up her belly. The doctor smiled and turned the monitor so Claire could see. Sure enough there was a little mass moving.

“Yeah, there is no way that he, or she, was conceived in the last couple of days.” The doctor wrote down something and then printed the image. Then she handed Claire a wipe or two to clean off the lubrication.

The doctor noticed the expression on Claire's face. “Kind of a stupid question, but something on your mind?”

“Will the baby be ok, given the events of the past few days?” she looked up worryingly.

“A lot of women do miscarry within the first trimester. And that can be from anything—sometimes the body just does that. Given the malnutrition, the physical, and mental abuse at such an early stage of development, it's completely possible you could lose it. I can't say for sure though.”

Claire nodded. “I understand. I just wanted to know if I should tell the father now or later. Sounds like later when the rate of miscarriage subsides.”

“And when you heal.”

“And when the incident is farther behind us. Don't want too much excitement at once, right?”

'Or raised hopes or shear terror,' she thought. She and Hannibal had never discussed the topic of children or even spending their lives together for more than a week at time. She was quite frankly terrified to tell him even the possibility of the child making it through the first trimester. What if he doesn't want kids?

Hours later they finished poking and prodding and scanning and taking samples from Claire. They let her take a shower (oh, it felt good) and brought her a little food and when she was done eating then she could see Hannibal. It was late when they finished with her, for a while anyway. Visiting hours were over, but since Hannibal was all she had they made an exception for them.

She was sitting up in her bed with her knees up when he walked through the door holding a small vase of flowers and his coat over his arm. He looked tired. Her eyes lit up at the site of him. He placed the vase on the end table as she scooted over so he could sit on the bed with her.

He gestured towards the flowers and spoke softly. “I figured you would want to see more color-”

“They're beautiful. Thank you.” She spoke just as quietly and moved to bury her face in his arm. “I'm so happy to see you.” Tears were forming in her eyes.

He moved so he could hold her, lowering his head to touch hers. “I'm happy to see you too.” He gently kissed her lips. He noticed how angry her black eye looked and noted to be careful when touching that side of her face.

She snuggled into the embrace and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne or aftershave or whatever it was. She never realized how much she took advantage of his scent. “Oh, God, Hannibal, I was so scared.” She finally aloud herself to breakdown, grabbing his jacket in a death grip.

He said nothing, while he stroked her hair and rocked with her. It took a long while for her to calm down. When the full fledged sobbing turned into sniffling she began to talk.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

He looked at her sternly. “Don't you ever be sorry for any of this!” She was taken aback slightly. “Nothing that happened to you over the past four days is your fault. None of it. Do not apologize. You should be proud of yourself, if anything. You escaped.” He brushed tears off of her face. “You are the most brave, smart, and strong person I've met, Claire.” He kissed her again. “Ok?” She nodded and whispered “ok” back.

A thought occurred. “I didn't talk to any cops or anything-”

“Eva and I discussed that and thought it best that they get your statement tomorrow.” He told her.

“Thank you.”

He smiled as he looked at the cuts on her face, one of which required stitches. He sweetly kissed a small one on her cheek. “I wish I could ease the pain for you.”

“I have meds for that,” she joked. He chuckled, still very close to her face. “In all honestly, you are helping.” She blushed. “Those four days---all I could think about was getting back to you.” She gulped, not knowing how he'd react. “And being in your arms-- I feel safe again.”

“My turn to be honest,” he paused for a moment to carefully chose what he wanted to say. “I don't know what I would've done if he had taken you from me.”

She was on the verge of crying again. Instead she kissed him with the intent of it lasting forever. He welcomed that amount of affection from her.

When she pulled away, the wave of exhaustion that had hidden itself for a while came crashing down on her causing her to yawn.

“Will you stay?” she asked him, trying desperately not to yawn again or let her eyes close.

He gave the answer with no thought at all. “Yes.”

He removed his jacket and vest, then pulled off his shoes. She had scooted as far back on the bed as she was able to so he could lay next to her. She was pretty sure the staff wouldn't be too happy with either of them over it, but she didn't care. The same thought crossed his mind, but he figured he'd at least stay in the bed until she fell asleep, making sure it was the first time in four days that she'd fall asleep comfortable and peacefully.

She snuggled close and held his hand as she drifted off within a few minutes. He didn’t realize how exhausted he himself was and he fell asleep not too long after.

Will stopped by the hospital and wanting to pop in to at least see if she was ok and to give her a stuffed animal and card to cheer her up. He knew Hannibal would be there for sure but he was surprised at the site he saw. There in a not so roomy hospital bed was Hannibal curled up next to Claire, their fingers interlocked between them. It almost made him forget what Hannibal truly was and what he was capable of.

He quietly sneaked in and placed the toy next to the flowers Hannibal had brought. Then adjusted the lighting to a more comfortable setting. A nurse walked by as he was leaving and threatened to wake Hannibal to ask him to move, or leave. Will stopped her.

“Those two have both just been through a horrible ordeal,” he tried to keep his voice calm and quiet. “Please, they're tired and they need each other.” The nurse looked again and saw their hands and how close they were, making her understand what Will was trying to get across. “Let him stay.” She nodded, then shut the door.

The peaceful sleep didn't last too long. Claire's dreams changed from something innocent and forgotten to the memories of being shocked, sliced, and objects being inserted into her body. She twitched, cried, and sweated as the dream became more intense, scary, and realistic. It had caused Hannibal to wake up. He watched her breathing become more labored. He was sure she was on the verge of screaming herself awake.

He shook her slightly to try and wake her. “Claire, it's just a dream. You're not there with him. You are in a hospital with me. Claire.”

Her eyes opened wide as she gasped for air and sat straight up. She looked around frantically. He got up from the bed and grabbed the handkerchief he had in his chest pocket to wiped the sweat and tears off of her face. The first touch startled her. She jerked her head to the side to look at him.

“Oh! Oh, Hannibal,” she whispered.

He shushed her as he rubbed the soft cloth over her face. Again, the smell helped her relax.

She was so terrified by the nightmare she struggled to talk for awhile. Only his name would come out.

“Shhhh----it was just a dream. You're safe now. I'm here,” He kept telling her trying to bring her back to reality. When he was done wiping her face he held her to his chest.

Her eyes were still wide, but she calmed down enough to find her voice. “It was so horrible and real! It was like he captured me again.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him. “Hannibal, I don't get nightmares. Ever! Not since I was little.”

“You faced death and it left you traumatized. And you don't know how to handle it. This is a normal reaction.”

He leaned back to lie on the bed, guiding her with him. Her ear was to his heart and she listened to the gentle beating of the organ as he fiddled with her hair. She had a vice like grip on his shirt. He noticed and placed his other hand over hers.

They didn't talk anymore and in time, the grip on the shirt loosened and Hannibal noticed that she had drifted off again. He too went back to sleep.

There were no more dreams that night, at least none that she could remember, and Hannibal bid her farewell when the morning came. She protested and begged him not to go, but he did have things he needed to take care of.

“I'll come back after my last appointment of the day, I promise.” He kissed her on the forehead.

She watched him leave, not looking forward to being left alone or anything the day would bring her. Not even the breakfast a staff member brought in.

She wanted to eat, she really did. She hadn't seen that much food since she was taken, and they told her to take it slow in case her body would be in slight shock of getting nutrients again. She took a bite of the eggs they gave her; they didn't taste right. The bacon looked good, but it too, tasted funny. Even the water was bitter. She took a couple more bites but then lost interest. Instead, she just moved it around with the fork until that too was pointless. She pushed the tray away, unable to even look at the contents anymore.

She turned on the TV and the first few channels had news programs on and the only thing they wanted to talk about was last night's events. She heard her name as she clicked the up button in an attempt to find something watchable. She came across Spongebob Squarepants, something she'd never turn off before and clicked right over it. She also skipped over an animal show that once upon would've gotten her attention, another cartoon she enjoyed, and even Three's Company. She came to the conclusion she was just not in the mood for TV and off it went.

She had a brief moment of wanting her iPod or computer but knew that there'd be no interest in either of them neither. She settled for laying down and staring off into space. It almost looked as if she was having a staring contest with the wall.

Completely unaware of how much time had passed, she heard a knock at her door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw it was Eva and Will. Probably there to get her statement.

“Good morning, Claire,” Eva greeted quietly. “I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Eva Bradford.”

“Yes, I remember,” she said in an emotionless tone. “I went to your wedding.” It felt like that was ages ago.

“I'm also here with Will.”

There was no response.

Will glanced over at the almost full tray of food.

Claire heard footsteps and felt the weight on the bed shift indicating that someone had sat on the bed.

It was Will and he leaned over to gently speak to her. “I know you probably don't feel like it, but we need you to talk to us about what was done to you.”

“Too bad I couldn't just hook my brain up to a projector and just let you watch my nightmares.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Will could feel that it was going to be hard for her to talk. He got up from the bed and pulled Eva off to the side. He told her it might be better if he talked to Claire alone and try and get her emotionally ready. She agreed and left.

“Why did you do that?”

Will turned around and saw that Claire had rolled over to her back and was looking at him.

“I thought you'd appreciate easing into it rather than just diving back into the bad dreams,” he smiled at her.

She flashed a tiny one back. “Thank you, for that and for the bear.” She lazily pointed to towards the nightstand.

“You're welcome.” He sat down in the chair next to her bed. “Claire, I know we don't know each other that well. Never even spoke to each other outside of Hannibal's dinners. But, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything and not just recent events.”

She sat up and looked at him blankly. “Funny. I didn't think you really liked me.”

“I never said that.”

“Just the attitude you've given me.” She looked down. “So, why do you care anyway?”

He chuckled. “I understand having someone in your head, that cause nightmares and confusion. They haunt you.” She turned back to him. “The mental aspect of being attacked is a lot worse than anything physical you can endure.”

“What do I do?”

“You fight. Try and put your monster down. You start out by talking about it. Then we'll lock him away. The rest you need to sort out.”

“Is that what you did with your monster?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

There was a slight awkward silence between them, in which Will debated on whether to see if she was ready for Eva or if he should tell her about his monster.

“It's Hannibal, isn't it?”

Will was shocked by question, but decided to answer honestly. “Yes.”

“You know what he is?”

“Yes. And it seems you do too.”

She nodded. “I'm in danger, aren't I?”

Will thought about the photo in Hannibal's office. “From him? I don't think so.”

“What about you?”

Puzzled, Will asked, “Are you asking if you're safe from me or am I safe from Hannibal?”

“Both,” she said bluntly.

“I have nothing against you. As far as I know, you're just there. Maybe he's even gotten in your head. As for Hannibal: I try to stay on his good side. I guess you can say, I'm trying to tame my monster.”

Claire was curious now and pushed the topic on. “What did he do to you?”

“It's not something I enjoy talking about, really.” His voice was calm. “But just know that he can be very dangerous and heartless. And he's clever.”

She forced a smirk. “Didn't I just escape from that?”

“Hangman isn't that clever.” He got up and sat on the bed again. “Please, Claire. Be careful with Lecter. You have no idea what he is capable of.”

She let Will's words sink in as the thoughts of how Hannibal was with her, how he held her and talked to her. It contrasted to Hannibal preparing the set of lungs or cooking a liver. She thought back to the first night she discovered his secret, but then transitioned to that morning when she woke up and then to the little thing inside of her that they had created.

Suddenly, she felt peace. She finally knew how she felt. She loved Hannibal and she was planning on staying with him for as long as she possibly could. So what-- he kills and eats people. The world is a cruel place. Bad things happen and people die. They both needed to find someone who made them happy and why let that slight flaw come between them.

Will caught her staring off into space. “Claire?”

“Sorry.” She quickly shifted her focus back to him. Nodding and feeling a temporary confidence, she said, “I think I'm ready to give my statement now.”

Will nodded and moved to go get the agent.

“Will,” Claire shouted after him. “I appreciate you talking with me first.”

He nodded and called Eva into the room. Claire told them every gruesome detail of her ordeal, trying her best not to lose complete control in front of them.

Shortly after finishing the conversation with Eva and Will the doctor entered her room and told her that she could leave the hospital whenever she was ready which, since she needed a ride and clean clothes, was when Hannibal was done for the day. In the meantime, she tried to bring herself to eat or watch tv, even doodle, but nothing held her interest for long. She just didn't have the enthusiasm.

It was pretty late when Hannibal arrived. He stopped by her apartment to grab clothes and a couple other items. He entered the room and saw that she had her feet up on the bed and her face buried in her crossed arms. She looked up when he said her name.

“I have some clothes for you,” he said handing her the backpack he had packed her items in. “I also grabbed your shampoo and the like.” She glanced up at him. “I think it would be best if you stayed with me for awhile. Your computer, purse, and iPod are waiting for you there.”

She didn't argue. She took the backpack from him and changed in the bathroom. She caught a glimpse or herself in the mirror as she put on her bra. She didn't realize how bruised and broken she looked. The one legged hangman on her arm had scabbed over making it look worse than it was.

A nurse chatted with Hannibal as she waited for Claire to come out of the bathroom. She had her fill out paperwork and gave her a piece of paper that gave specific instructions regarding her recovery and about the prescriptions she was receiving: pain medication and antibiotics. Then she escorted Hannibal and Claire out to the exit.

Claire didn't say a word, only looked over her instruction sheet on the drive to Hannibal's. It advised to more or less take it easy for a while and that she should take time away from work. Medication wise it said to take the pain ones when needed and the antibiotics once a day until gone. There was also a side note that said she should look into therapy. She didn't look forward to making any calls.

Not a word from either of them was spoken until they got comfortable on the couch.

He sat down and then pulled her towards him. “You'll get through this,” he told her, which caused her to lose control again.

“I don't know how! I just don't feel right!” She nearly screamed through her tears. Her face buried in his chest.

“It'll take some time.”

He had his sleeves rolled up exposing a large scar on his forearm. She'd seen it, well both (they were a matching set), before, but never felt brave enough to ask for the story behind them. When she calmed some, she looked down, and started to run her finger over the one.

He watched a couple of the strokes before he spoke. “Now might be a good time to tell you the story behind those.” He laid his head on hers, still looking at his arm. “One night while I was at the pool, I was attacked. The perpetrator made me stand on a metal bucket as I was hung in a way where the bucket was the only thing between me and a quick death. At the same time, he had cut both my arms and had them strapped to a bar to hold them out. He meant for me to die that night, either by hanging or bleeding out.”

“Who did that do you?” She pushed on, either out of curiosity or the need to hear his relaxing voice.

He didn't answer right away, allowing himself time to consider how to tell her. “It was an orderly from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Why would--”

“He was sent from someone who was imprisoned there. That's all I'm going to tell you about it.” He never raised his voice, but his expression told her to let it go.

She took the hint, but did ask, “How did you survive?”

“The former head of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit and a dear friend of mine, Jack Crawford, saved me. He found out where I was and grabbed a hold of me when the bucket was kicked.”

Her curiosity made her want to ask more who Jack was, but the look Hannibal gave her told her that he was no longer among the living, so she let the topic go. She did wonder if Jack had died in the line of duty or if Hannibal himself had something to with it.

“It was the first time in a long while that I had nightmares,” he continued, bringing her to his chest again, and returned to resting his head on hers. “You're strong, Claire. I believe you can overcome this, just as I had. And I'm here for you.”

He held onto her for a good while before stating that he needed to go cook dinner. He pointed out where her laptop was and then excused himself. She got up and took the electronic out from the bag, opened it up, and started checking her social network sites. For a good ten minutes, she was content and everything felt normal, but somehow that feeling vanished and she lost the want to keep scrolling on Tumblr and to play any of her games on Facebook. Even her Spotify play list seemed uninteresting as she skipped over every song trying to find one that clicked.

She was unaware of how long she sat on the couch just staring at the computer screen and nearly jumped out of her skin when Hannibal came back into the room to tell her that the food was ready.

“I'm not really hungry,” she said apologetically.

He titled his head a bit. “Did you already eat in the hospital?” She shook her head more aggressively than she meant to. “Then you must be a little hungry.”

“Not really.”

He nodded his head, knowing how she felt. He approached the couch and knelt down so he was eye level with her and cupped her face in his hand and tried to get her to look at him. She struggled at first but then accepted the dictation and turned towards him.

“Would you at least come keep me company?”

She nodded and then wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. At that moment it was the only thing that made her feel normal and safe. And not just temporally like the computer or music. She didn't want any of that right now; she just wanted Hannibal to hold her tight and never let go. But sooner or later she had to and followed him like a lost puppy to the dining room.

“Are you sure you wouldn't like anything to eat,” he softly asked, pulling out the chair for her. Once more, she shook her head no.

He returned with his plate and attempted to start and keep a conversation going. It didn't really go anywhere; Claire added very little input, giving only one or two, three max, word sentences. Hannibal couldn't blame her. The trauma of what had happened was over shadowing everything else in her mind. It wasn't what she wanted to talk about, but it was all she could think of.

When he took the last bite of his meal, he offered a little help. “How about tomorrow, I'll call the hotel and negotiate your break for you?”

She looked down at her hands. “I'd rather not take a break from work.” The way she spoke sounded awkward and forced.

“You need time to focus on yourself and heal. Don't you have vacation time saved up?”

She thought a minute. “Yea, I think I do. It's only two weeks though and with it being short notice-”

“I'm sure under the circumstances something can be worked out.”

“Is two weeks enough?” She finally lifted her gaze to him. The bruising around her eye made them seem more blood shot and tired than they probably were.

A smirk came over his face. “It's a start.”

She accepted the offer with a nod. There was an effort to smile too, but it felt almost painful to try and form one.

He told her to go get ready for bed while he cleaned up the kitchen and that he'd join her when he was finished. Before she did, she went back to the living room to put her laptop away and grabbed her bag. She walked up to the bathroom and changed into a pair of boxers and a t shirt, trying her hardest to avoid looking in the mirror. When she was ready she entered Hannibal's room and curled up in one of the chairs by the fireplace. She put her hands on her arms, but flinched when she felt the cuts with her fingertips.

Soon, Hannibal entered the room and dressed for bed. He sat down in the chair across from her.

It was a couple of heartbeats before he asked, “Do you want to talk about your ordeal? My office hours are over but my services are always available to you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I just--- I don't really want to but I feel that I should.” She knew if there was anyone she could talk and be honest with about the subject it was him. A silence fell between them as she thought about what she wanted to say. Her lover's face never lost the expression of understanding and patience. She settled on just saying whatever came to her mind. “I'm so confused, Hannibal. I really don't feel right, like I'm not myself anymore. I feel dirty and used and scared. I shouldn't though, should I? I should be feeling alive and grateful. Hey! I just survived a dude that killed so many girls, but I was the one who took him down using nothing but my mind and thighs.” She chuckled a little. “That's how I should feel, even you said that, but instead I feel---dead. Like the Hangman Rapist took and kept a chunk of me that I'll never get back.”

He sat with his hands folded in front of him. “No one can tell you how you are supposed to feel. They can try, but really, there is no wrong feeling in a situation like this. And yes, Hangman took something from you, but it is up to you to be strong and find it again.” He inhaled deeply before continuing. “You may never be fully rid of the feelings you just described to me, but with help, in time you'll feel like you again. Not the same Claire that you were, mind you, but a Claire who took strength from this situation. You'll be like a phoenix.”

A smile came over her face, this time with ease. Her eyes glassy with tears she fought off. “I hope you're right.”

They both left their seats at the same time. He met her with a kiss when their paths collided, then gave her a stern, yet loving look.

“You have to help yourself as much as I, or anyone else, can help you, alright?” He swayed a little as he talked. She nodded. “Good. I think we should try and get some sleep.”

They crawled into bed. She laid on her side, with her back towards him. He found it a little odd after the way she was acting lately but accepted it and curled up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. He heard a sniffle and knew right away she was hiding her tears from him. He tightened the embrace, bringing her closer to him, and he rested his head against hers. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. She came to the conclusion that she'd rather not hide from him and flipped over. He lightly, as not to put a lot of pressure on the black eye, wiped away a tear. Then encouraged her to snuggle as close as possible to him. They fell asleep while holding each other in their arms. But sometime in the middle of the night she woke both herself and him up with screams from the second of many nightmares that would haunt her.

 

Days went by and little by little Claire opened up more about her feelings, but she still couldn't bring her self to eat much, if at all. Hannibal tried his best to help strengthen her psyche, but the feeling of a hole in her soul over powered any sort of help.

One night, while he was out on one of his hunts, Claire stood, wearing nothing but her jeans and bra, in the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. The smaller of her cuts had healed over, some leaving scars and the bigger ones were scabbed over and well on their way to healing. The black eye didn't look as bad anymore and parts of the hangman were healed while the deeper bits were still scabbed over. But she still didn't recognize herself. There were dark bags under her eyes, well, at least noticeably under the non bruised one. She didn't feel like a twenty something year old; she felt more like a sixty year old.

She finally had enough of the face staring at her. It was time for a change. With barely a thought she grabbed the scissors next to her. For a split second she imagined the sharp edge running down her wrist, spilling her blood, and giving her just a few more minutes of life, but she shook it off when the image of Hannibal holding her drained body and having a breakdown (not unlike the scene in the last Harry Potter movie) followed. Instead of cutting her wrist, she brought the scissors to her head and cut her hair.

When she was finished, not only was there a hairy mess all over the floor by her feet, but the red curls that draped down to the middle of her back now ended to the middle of her neck. That was step one. Step two consisted of the box of black dye that sat next to her. She opened it up and read the directions over and over again to make sure she, at the very least, had an idea of what she was doing. Then she put on the plastic gloves and began rubbing the black mix all over what was left of her hair. She let it sit for forty-five minutes before she rinsed it out, waiting for the water to run clear. She used one of her old towels to dry in case she didn't get all of the color out. She couldn't imagine how Hannibal would react to one of his nice, fluffy ones covered in the permanent smears.

She released the locks from the towel and examined the new her. A smirk came over her face; this felt appropriate—and right. Hannibal walked into the room as she finished. It didn't surprise her much since she left the door ajar. She caught his reflection in mirror, then looked down and chuckled.

“Aren't you going to question what I'm doing?” Her tone was dark as she turned to face him.

He still had the plastic suit on, but the gloves were gone and there was blood on his face. Regardless of how deadly he looked, his expression was nothing but caring.

“No,” he responded flatly. “I know exactly what is going on. You are expressing yourself: making the outside match the inside.”

She looked down with a smile at the floor and bobbed her head. “I felt like it was time to make things consistent.”

He took a couple steps closer. “Aren't _you_ going to ask me if I like it? You usually do.”

“I don't care anymore.” He put his hands on her arms, not without the plastic squeaking a little, and she looked up at him finally getting a good look at the blood on his face. He had been wounded by his prey. “Met someone with a little fight in them?”

The evil smile of his came over his face. “Yes.”

“Isn't that a little dangerous.”

“I've taken care of that. No trace of me is left behind.” He gave her a kiss. “I appreciate your concern.”

“No trace except for the kill itself, right?” He laughed slightly. “Sit.” She indicated for him to sit down and then grabbed cotton balls and rubbing alcohol from the medicine cabinet.

He looked up at her as she gently wiped off the blood. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know.” The statement came out quick and quiet, but authoritative. “Just humor me.” He watched the loving expression in her eyes as she finished taking care of him. “There. It's not even that bad, but it sure bled a lot. You sure you cleaned up enough at the scene?”

“I did.” He answered softly, as he pulled her on his lap, making her straddle him. The suit squeaked with every movement. “Thank you.” He kissed her passionately, his hand moving over every muscle in her back. He felt almost blessed to have someone like her in his abnormal life.

 

A week after, Hannibal arranged for Claire to take one more week away from work. She used up her vacation days, but he convinced not only her, but her boss, to let her have the time off. She panicked over the lost paycheck, but he offered to help her, knowing that this one more week would do her a world of good. He also wanted to ease her back into socialization, so that night he planed a little get together with her, Will, and Alana.

Claire was finishing setting the table when Will and Alana showed up. They were both taken aback when they saw how much Claire had changed; not only the short, black hair, but also how tired and sad she looked and how much thinner she appeared. Will greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and Alana gave her a hug. They both questioned how she was doing, actually, it was more how was her recovery going. She replied with a vague, sighed 'ok'.

Hannibal held out Claire's chair for her and she sat to the left of his chair, Will was directly across from her, and Alana was next to him. Hannibal poured a glass of water for Claire and then wine, while telling them the back story for it, for himself and the other two. Then he sat down to chat a little while the delicious smelling meal finished cooking. They all tried to keep Claire in the conversation, but they'd often lead it away from topics she couldn't add any input to.

An awkward silence fell among them when Hannibal left to get the food.

Alana was the one to break it. “I like what you've done with your hair, Claire. Although, I'm sad to see the red gone. It was such a pretty color.”

Claire blushed some. “Thank you. I just got a wild hair up my ass and felt the need to shake things up.”

Hannibal began serving the portions while telling what it was and the origins of the recipe. He gave Claire her's last, which was smaller than Will or Alana's.

As he put it on her plate, he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Please, try and eat today.”

She turned to him and nodded.

The dining room came alive with the sound of conversation and clanking silverware. Again, Claire stayed the quietest, spending most of her time scooting the food around the plate. She did manage to choke it down for Hannibal's sake; she knew it tasted great, all of Hannibal's meals did, but to her it didn't taste right. The others took turns keeping an eye on her trying to cypher her thought process, or at least making sure she was ok. None of them felt anything was abnormal.

The topics kept changing as they finished their meal. Sometimes it was art, sometimes it was about the human mind, one occasion it was about Will's dogs. Soon it changed to newspaper articles.

First it was about some robberies, then it went to schools, but then it took a very dark turn.

“Did you see in the paper they still hadn't caught Hangman?” Will asked them innocently.

Alana nodded her head indicating she knew what Will was talking about. Hannibal, however whipped his head to see Claire's reaction. Her eyes had dilated in fear.

“What do you mean he hasn't been caught?” she nearly screamed. “He was in custody. I was there! Eva got him!”

None of them said a word as she pulled her iPod out of her pocket and searched the internet about it. Sure enough an article stating that he had escaped was at the top of the page.

Alana and Will glanced at each other then at Hannibal, whose face gave no indication of what he was thinking.

Alana spoke to Claire. “I'm sorry. We thought you knew. He escaped sometime last week.”

“Wha--?” It was her turn to look at Hannibal. “Did you know?”

He finally aloud some emotion to show through. “Yes.”

Claire was shaking and her voice cracked as she yelled, “You knew!? How could you not tell me!?”

“I'm sorry. I was worried about how you'd handle the news.” He was half telling the truth. He was more so curious about how she'd handle him keeping that information away from her. “I didn't want it to interfere with your therapy.”

“What if he tries to find me; finishes what he started?” She was breathing heavy and tears were forming. “Oh, God. What if he's been following me? He knows my car and where my apartment building is. I've gone to grab things from home and then come back he-- Oh, God!” She lowered her head and saw his face on the screen on her iPod. She immediately shut it off as she felt herself slip into a breakdown.

“There's no guarantee that'll happen,” Will offered. “But if it does, you won't be alone this time. Hannibal will be here for you.”

“He works during the day.” Her voice was shaky.

“Keep the doors and windows locked then,” Hannibal added. “Will or Eva or myself are only a phone call away if something happens.” The statement gave her little comfort.

Alana, meanwhile, was having flashbacks to the night Gideon's stalker stood out in her yard and watched her. She felt for Claire.

 

Will and Alana dined with Hannibal and Claire the rest of the week out of concern for Claire's well being. Sometimes, it was just Will, other times it was just Alana. The night before Claire was scheduled to go back to work they both joined in.

Claire seemed to have calmed down some or at least she figured out how to deal or even hide how scared she was by the fact that Hangman hadn't been caught yet. She did eat a little more and seemed to be getting more bright eyed and talkative.

“I'm pretty nervous about going back to work tomorrow,” she told the table. “I'll have to find my groove again.”

“You've done amazing progress these past three weeks, I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem for you.” Hannibal tapped the top of her hand.

“Here's to Claire's recovery,” Alana chimed holding up her glass for a toast.

'Ting' went the four glasses and everyone took a sip before resuming their discussion and meal. It was a lovely evening. Hannibal even had the curtains open exposing the beautiful night outside.

Claire faced Hannibal as they talked about the current topic, but she stopped mid sentence when something outside caught her attention; her expression changed drastically.

“What is it?” he asked her turning to see what she had seen. The motion caused their guests to look too.

“It's---it's HIM!” she said as her eyes widened. Sure enough a silhouetted figure ran off.

“Now we can't be sure, but just to be safe, Alana, Claire, run upstairs and lock yourselves in a room and call for help,” Hannibal commanded as everyone sprang to their feet. “Will, do you have your gun?”

He already had it at the ready. Will took off after the person and Hannibal rushed to get a knife from the kitchen, so he was no longer unarmed. Alana was at the doorway ready to seek shelter. Claire rushed to the cabinet that was next to the fireplace.

“What are you doing? Let's go!” Alana shouted.

Hannibal didn't know it but Claire bought a taser and had hidden it. “Had to grab this.” She held up the weapon as she tested the battery.

Satisfied, the two women made their way to the stairs, but as soon as they entered the entrance way they learned that somebody had broken through one of the living room windows and stood in the room, waiting for them.

“Hello, number eight,” came the familiar, chilling voice.

Like a flash of lightning, he swung a punch that connected with the side of Alana's head. She hit the floor, hard, causing her to black out.

“Alana!” Claire screamed, as Hangman charged at her.

He pinned her against the wall. “I've kept my eye on you. I really hate leaving unfinished business.”

“Oh, I feel ya.”

Claire flipped the taser back on and put it to his side. He dropped her and wobbled back. She was unable to see what she was doing and had the taser set on a low setting, and being he was a larger person, it didn't give her much time to think. In reality, she didn't really think at all. She dropped the taser and jumped on him and started slamming his head on the floor, over and over again. By the time she realized she was well on her way to killing him, she stopped. He was still conscious.

“No,” she said staring down at him. Then rose to her feet bringing the heel of her right boot as close to his throat as possible. She was so tempted to kick down as hard as she could. But decided not to. “No, death...would be too great for you. Someone needs to give you a taste of what you had done to so many.”

Her face was emotionless, but her eyes dark. Her boots echoed in the room, making her footsteps eerie sounding as she walked around him plotting.

“These past three weeks, have been horrid,” she began. “I felt lost, afraid, alone, used; I felt something had been taken and that I could no longer be myself.” She kicked his arms out, making sure his palms rested facing up. “Then I learned that you had escaped. That made me feel even worse. I was on the edge of a crippling paranoia.” She moved to his legs and kicked them out, spreading them, which put him in a star like pose. He made gasping sounds that may have been pleas of forgiveness, but Claire couldn't really tell nor did she care. “Do you know what that's like? To go through four days of hell with you-” She stopped at his left hand. “Then put up with that kind of mental anguish!” She slammed her foot down as hard as she could into his opened hand, putting all weight into the heel. He winced and yelled, but was still very disoriented to where he didn't really try to fight. “You don't think of that do you. No. You're selfish. All women belong to you. That's why you came back. No more.” She was at his right hand. “No more will I live in fear of you. I will not let you have that power!” Again she brought her heel down on his hand with all her might. The reaction was the same as before but he focused his attention on something else and he was pleading in that direction for help. She noticed and followed his gaze.

Hannibal and Will had reentered the house and stood in the doorway. Will was almost in shock by what he saw, but Hannibal's face had a feeling of pride peeping through.

“Don't try to stop me,” Claire growled. Will made a movement but Hannibal stopped him. “I'm fighting my monster, Will. I'm taking back my life.”

Will realized if he had the same opportunity with his monster, he'd take it and no one on the planet could stop him. So instead he went to tend to Alana.

“It's your chance, Claire,” Hannibal encouraged. “Take it back.”

He moved to the side of the scene, taking great pleasure in her fury and control. While she was distracted, Hangman tried to move but she caught him and kicked him in the gut. Then shifted his legs back the way she had them.

“From the moment I was safe, I dreamed of a moment like this,” she resumed, knowing exactly what she wanted to do. “A chance to cause you the same pain as you caused me.” She moved between his outstretched legs, lined her heel with his left testicle, and kicked. The room echoed with a sickening sound and Hangman tensed up and gasped for air. Without a second thought she forced his legs apart for the third time and with just as much power kicked the right one. Once more he gasped and tensed up, but this time he spit up blood.

In victory she placed her right foot on his chest, holding him down as she towered over his bruised body. She bent down to face his closing eyes. “You don't own me. Not anymore.”

She finally felt her body shake with adrenaline as lights flashed and sirens wailed from outside. She faced Hannibal as tears fell from her eyes. He offered her a hand which she gladly took. Her face was buried in his chest when Will let the police come in.

Through all the commotion of getting Hangman and Alana help everyone assumed that Claire was sobbing uncontrollably in Hannibal's arms. But he felt something was a little off about how she sounded. He looked down at her and saw that she was not crying, not anymore. She was laughing.

 

They learned that yes, Hangman had followed Claire learning everything he needed to know for the night of the attack. He was so full of himself he figured he could lure the men out by appearing to take off, but then crouching somewhere close so he could quickly break in and take Claire's life without a problem. Only, Claire herself was the biggest problem he'd have. No charges were brought up on Claire as there was no evidence or her torturous ways, other than the severe kicking to his crotch, so it was all written off as self defense.

Alana came around just fine other than being bothered by being knocked out so easy. And Will worried about what Claire had become.

The night after, Claire and Hannibal sat in the living room, now with a temporally boarded up window, drinking warm tea by firelight. He sat with his back against the couch and feet planted on the floor while she was curled up at his side, his arm resting on her.

His psychiatric tendencies couldn't resist the possible aftermath on her brain. “How did that make you feel last night?”

She sipped her tea before answering. “I felt empowered.” She hummed a little. “For the first time in a while, I felt right.”

“You needed that release.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Yes. Definitely!” They both giggled. “I guess I owe you a thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“Yes.” She sat up, put her cut on the table, and looked him in the eye. “For not stopping me.”

He sat his cup down and cupped her cheek lovingly. He smiled, but didn't say anything.

She held his hand and nuzzled into the embrace as she sighed. “Why did you let me do that to him?”

“I was curious as to what you would do,” he answered honestly. “I also felt that it would be a therapeutic experience for you. And it seems it was.”

He smiled at her. She smiled back. The light had returned to her eyes. He was legitimately thrilled to see that again. He couldn't help by bring his lips to hers. When he released her, they stared deep into each others eyes with their noses touching. His hands still on her face.

“I want to ask you something. Something really—odd,” she said quietly.

“By all means.”

“You're do to go hunting soon aren't you?”

He didn't answer.

“May I-,” she had to focus on the words she wanted to say. “May I go with you?”

He was completely thrown off by her question. He couldn't answer right away; it seemed like an eternity before he finished his thought process.

“Are you sure?” It was a good place to start.

She nodded her head and bluntly answered, “Yes.” She saw him struggle to find an appropriate answer for her. “I know the consequences if I screw up and/or we get caught. I also know the precautions we take to try and prevent that.”

Again, he was silent. He focused on her expression, reading into how serious she was, as he dug for an answer.

“You may come with me,” he found a response. “There are some preparations we need to make.”

“Right.”

He still couldn't believe what he had just agreed to. It was dangerous on so many levels but his curiosity got the best of him. He did have a little bit of faith in her that she could cover her tracks, but still. Plus, now he had to change his prey. Who he had originally stalked was good enough for him, but now he had to find someone appropriate for Claire too. He had an idea of who.

“So, it's settled then,” he chimed. He picked up their mugs, handed Claire hers, then held his up making a half hearted toast. “Our 'date' will be in three days. That should be enough time to get everything ready.”

They tapped the cups together then took a drink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love Dark!Claire  
> Another chapter that result in interesting Google searches. I'm not sure about the result of this chapter. I mean it sounded alright and believable when I wrote it, but looking back....not sure


	8. Croquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal takes Claire on a couple of hunts

During the three days, they discussed the what would happen during, after, and just in case aspects of the hunt. He gave her an extra plastic suit to wear, but had to cleverly adjust it so it could fit her more comfortably. He never told her, who they were going after or where the killing would take place or even how they'd be doing it. The only details he'd share was the time and that she was going to basically follow his lead.

They went about their day as if nothing abnormal was going to happen and when the time came, they had on their plastic suits and gloves and more or less encased their hair in gel. Then, Hannibal took her to a small, abandoned barn way out of town (probably not even in town). He told her he was going to go get their target and then bring them back to the barn.

She waited patiently for him. It seemed like forever before he returned. It actually surprised her when the barn door swung open with a bang.

“I need some assistance,” he asked of her as if they were bringing in the groceries-- well, actually, the kind of were.

She helped him lug a big body bag from out of the back of a car that he normally didn't drive. She wouldn't be too shocked if come to find out it was stolen and he used it as his 'Ripper-mobile'. He commanded her to place the body in a certain spot then he grabbed a ladder and a chain that was hooked up to a crank. He strung the lose end of the chain over a rafter.

“The Blood Eagle: that was the torture you kept telling me was the one you'd do, yes?” he asked her as he took the final step from the ladder. Pale faced and nervous, she nodded. “That's what you are going to do today. I'm assuming you know what you are doing?”

She held her arms around her. “Is it bad if I just say 'I have an idea of what I am doing'?”

He grinned. “It doesn't really matter if you mess up, my dear. Either way he's not making it out of here alive.” He handed her a very menacing, sharp knife.

Down he went to unzip the bag exposing the person within, whose face had been covered by what looked like a small potato sack. Then he hooked the victim to the chain. In a fluid motion he was at the crank, turning it to raise the victim to his feet giving the young woman flashbacks to an experience she wish she could forget.

Claire stood back watching while having doubts about the whole thing. Until, Hannibal removed the cover. Her eyes grew wide as she recognize their victim. It was Evan from the diner Claire had worked at. He was the perfect choice for the occasion; he had attacked her, been rude, and that bitter personal connection between him and her might make things go smoother for Claire.

Hannibal began slapping his face in a noisy attempt to wake him up. It took a bit but soon his eye lids began to flutter open.

“There we go.” He smiled evilly.

Evan looked around understandably scared and let out a tiny “Wha--?” Then he focused on Hannibal.

The smile was still on his face. “Do you remember me, Evan?”

There was a moment of silence before the memory resurfaced. “You! The old guy from the night I was arrested.”

“Must you say it like that?”

Evan caught sight of Claire. “Oh, my God! Claire! Help me, please.” Then he noticed that she was dressed similarly to Hannibal. “Wait. You---you're with him!”

“You think I'd forget, Evan?” she said, tapping into her dark side.

“What are you going to do to me?” Evan sounded like he was near tears.

“You'll see,” Hannibal answered quickly. “Claire.” He gestured for her to begin.

She nodded and walked to behind Evan.

“How long did you want me to undress you and touch you?” she teased. Starting form the neck, barely letting the knife touch his skin, she cut his shirt to expose his back. She tried hard to remember the exact spot she was supposed to cut.

Hannibal saw her struggle with her thoughts and moved to help her. He took her hand in his and moved the knife to where the ribs met the spine.

He whispered in her ear. “Cut. Cut. Pull apart--”

“Then bring the lungs out,” she finished in a whisper.

“Ok? What's going on?” Evan began to freak out. “Don't tell me you sick assholes are making out back there.”

The sentence angered her more than it should've; it was what drove her to shoving the knife where Hannibal had told her. Evan screamed in pain and blood gushed from the wound. She didn't let it bother her as she drug the knife down, then pulled the knife from one side to the other giving him a matching set of wounds. The whole time he begged and pleaded to let it be over and to be free. She tuned it out.

She handed Hannibal the knife. Then her hands dove into the cuts she made. She struggled to get the ribs separated. He noticed and placed his hands just above hers and added his strength which brought the ribs apart in a horrible cracking sound. Evan let out an ear piercing screech.

“You suffocated me with all that harassment and humiliation. It's time I paid back the favor!” Claire yelled as she grabbed and pulled out the pair of lungs making a goopey mess.

Evan may not had heard her. He had gone quite and possibly passed out as the exposed organs inflated and deflated struggling to do their job in an inappropriate environment.

“I'm going to harvest him before he is completely dead,” Hannibal told her as he moved to Evan's front.

“I don't think the liver is any good and well, I kind of killed the lungs,” she offered watching them take another feeble inhale.

His evil smile returned. “I understand. I'm actually after muscle this time.” He began to hack away at the body.

“Good luck finding any.”

“Don't be rude, Claire. Everyone has muscle. Some are more defined and others require a little digging.”

Claire listened to Hannibal chop away at Evan's body while she watched the set of lungs exhale for the last time. She let Hannibal know when they did. He finished up and then instructed to clean up, pack up, and head out.

They took the body to a pig farm and posed him like one of said animal. Hannibal even had a pair of real pig ears and a snout to attach to him.

The car was placed in its hiding spot and they washed mud and blood off of their suits at the barn.

When they went back to Hannibal's house they took off the suits and he took them to the place he kept them hidden. Claire decided to shower while he put away the meat. She felt incredibly dirty and had a need to get the hair gel out of her hair.

While the water was heating up she lost all control of her conscience and stomach. She violently throw up in the toilet. She had to take sometime to calm down. She was shaking pretty bad as she took of her clothes and step into the running water. Tried as she might she just couldn't feel clean.

 

Will grimaced at the scene Eva had called him in on: Evan's torn up body in the pig pen. He was down on his hands and knees, the pig ears slightly askew on the top of his head, the snout covered his nose. The animals he was placed with bumped and nibbled at him off and on all night.

“This is what's left of Evan, the son of local diner owner,” Eva told him. “He works or should I say worked at his father's restaurant where he was know for showing up drunk off his ass and getting violent. He was actually put in jail because he attacked the girl who he was working with _and_ a customer. Looks like someone got tired of his crap.”

“Can't argue with you there.” Will walked around the body, examining all the evidence. “There's a bit of humor to this.”

“What?”

“Blood Eagle, an old torturous way to kill someone, named so because the lungs pulled out through the back resemble wings. And being that Evan was kind of a pig in life-”

“Oh, haha. When pigs fly, right?” Eva rolled her eyes.

Will closed his eyes and used his talent:

“I know this man. He's been rude to me. I capture him. Take him to my killing place. He's hung up in front of me. But I am not the one that makes the cuts.” Will looks at the play his mind is creating and playing out in front of him. He sees the stag-man before him, but he is not alone. He is accompanied by a smaller feminine creature, with bird like feet. It looks as if she has wings instead of arms. Will is transfixed, as she flies behind Evan and tears into his body with her feet, pulling out the lungs as the stag-man watches. As Evan takes his last breath the creatures tear into his flesh with bloody claws and talons. The harpy lets out a terrible scream. Eyes fixated on the beast, Will simply says, “this time, the design is mine.”

“He wasn't alone,” Will said quietly as he came out of his trance.

“Who? Evan?”

“No, the killer. There were two. You're looking for killers on this one.”

“How can you-”

“The marks on the back are more uncertain and less skilled than the other ones. And I'm sure this is the same killer we've been looking for. He's got a protege now.”

 

“So, how does it feel to be back at work,” Hannibal asked Claire as he was preparing the meat for that night's dinner.

He had put Claire in charge of chopping onions. “Well, it's a step back towards normality.” She sniffled as the onions made her eyes burn. “It took me a bit to get used to the place again.”

“I don't doubt it.”

The doorbell rang and Hannibal left the kitchen to go answer it. He could hear her swearing at the vegetables for causing her such anguish. He chuckled as he opened the door to Eva and Will.

“Eva. Will. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he greeted.

Eva was the one to answer. “We need to speak to Claire.”

He panicked a little, but didn't let it show. “Of course. She's in the kitchen.”

He escorted them and when he entered the room, he quickly shot Claire a look that she understood. It was time for her to prove she wasn't going to screw things up.

“Hello, Will. Agent Bradford.” She nodded.

“Ms Dove, we need to speak to you about an Evan Harris.” Eva's voice drove the point home that this wasn't a social call.

Claire made it appear that she was thinking deeply about the name. “I'm sorry that name doesn't ring any bells.”

“You worked at his father's diner until Evan attacked you one night.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, him. It's been a long time since I heard the name. Guess I kind of forgotten about him. Especially, since.... you know.” She scratched at the arm that had the hangman scar. Just thinking about that made it itch or tingle. “But, yeah, what about him.”

“He was murdered last night and his body was displayed in an interesting manner.”

“Whoa....seriously?”

“Yes. And given your past history with him, I have to ask about your where-a-bouts last night.”

“Yeah, I understand.” She looked Eva right square in the eye. “I went to work and then I spent my night here, with Hannibal.”

“What did you two do last night?”

“Well, we ate. I watched a movie while Hannibal did some paperwork. Then we went to bed.”

“What did you have for supper? What movie did you watch?”

Eva was pushing for details to determine whether any of it was true. Claire was paranoid that such a thing would happen and had run over the scenario a dozen times in her head. She felt pretty confident about how prepared she was.

“I watched the first Rest Stop and we ate something Italian. I don't remember the name; it was something complicated.”

Hannibal offered up a name of a dish and then explained what it was making sure that gap wasn't open.

“Speaking of which,” he continued. “Would you two care to join us for dinner. I know it's late, but we have plenty. And I'm always pleased to serve friends.”

Eva looked towards Will, then back at Hannibal. “Well, sounds great.”

Claire and Hannibal finished cooking and then served their guests.

Eva was the first one to comment. “Doctor Lecter, this is fantastic!”

He gave her a little nod. “Thank you.”

Will noticed that Claire was eating the same thing that they were and with great enthusiasm.

“I thought you weren't brave enough to try meals like this,” he pointed out.

She smirked. “I felt it was time to be brave, try new things. Besides, you can only smell this delicious food for so long before it's becomes hard to resist.”

It was the best tasting thing Claire had ever eaten. 'It's about time something good came of Evan.'

 

Will's night was plagued with bad dreams. He sweated and twitched as the images became violent and disturbing and confusing.

In one of his dreams he was out fishing as he caught a glimpse of the ravenstag that haunted his mind. He decided to get out of the stream and follow it. It lead him deep into the woods where he came across a small clearing that really wasn't that clear; it was littered with dead bodies everywhere. He was even able to place names to some of them. He saw Evan's mutilated body, he recognized Georgia Madchen's burnt body, Beverly Katz's pieces, Shauna Neil, Tobias Budge, the pharmaceutical salesman, Jack Crawford, and James Grey. He swore he even saw Gideon again. Plus many others.

As he stared at the bloody mess before him he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He thought the stagman had ran off to his one side. Then he heard a branch snap. Was that the harpy? Are they stalking him? Neither noise was caused by the ravenstag. It was standing in front of him almost like it was waiting for him.

Will stepped over all the bodies to follow it. He was sure he felt the squish of blood, flesh, and mud under his feet. At the other side of the clearing the stag jumped off in a hurry making it hard for Will to follow. But he made it to where the stag started slowing down. It was at the edge of a creek. The stag snorted as Will got very close, causing him to stop. He stood in awe.

At the edge of the creek, laid a unicorn. Yes, a white a horse with a single horn coming out of its forehead—a unicorn; Will couldn't believe it. The stag appeared a lot darker compared to the brightest white that could ever exist. He watched as the stag approached her (somehow he could just feel it was a female) and nozzled her. It might have been a heart warming scene if both creatures didn't have quite a bit of blood on them, which Will had noticed as he got closer. Unable to look away he saw the stag lick the unicorn's belly, which then twitched. He was sure that the unicorn was with child.

 

A few days pass and on a day where both Claire and Hannibal had the day off, they spent it together, out in the backyard where Claire was practicing her archery skills. He approached her as she shot off another one at the target they had made.

“You're a pretty descent shot,” he complimented.

“Thank you.” She blushed. “I haven't shot an arrow since high school, so it's pretty amazing I still get even close to the center. And thanks again for digging all this up and letting me play.”

“You're welcome. When you told me you'd like to pick it up as a hobby, how could I resist? They've just been gathering dust until now. It was rather a shame to let them.”

“I take it, archery isn't your thing?”

He smiled and shook his head. She fired another one. This one hit the middle.

“Yes!” she yelled as she fist pumped.

“Impressive,” he laughed. “I'm very happy to see you have fun again.”

“I worried you for awhile, didn't I?” She made her way to collect the arrows and start another round.

“Yes.”

She took her round and then sat with him at the small table and chairs he had set up just outside the dinning room door and talked. They drank lemonade that she had made.

“Have you ever thought about putting a little garden out here?” she asked him when she felt they were losing conversation.

“Not really.” He looked pretty grim over just the thought. “Don't really have the passion for gardening, let alone the time to take care of it. I'm content with the herbs I have in the dinning room.”

“But imagine the butterflies and bees and birds that you could attract.” She was grinning ear to ear.

He couldn't help but smile. “It's just not something I feel I have to have.”

“Ok.”

As they talked some more, Hannibal noticed that Claire seemed to get the chills. “Are you all right?”

“Yea, I think so.” She leaned forward on the little table. “It's just, lately I feel like I'm being watched. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

He nodded. “I've been feeling that same way myself.”

“That's both a nice and unnerving thing to hear.”

“It is.”

 

The next week, Hannibal scheduled another hunt and Claire wanted to go with. They got into their plastic suits and covered their hands and hair once again.

On the way to the barn Hannibal asked Claire, “Are you familiar with the torture called the Spanish Donkey?”

“Yes,” she answered. “It was also on an episode of 1000 Ways to Die.”

“Good.”

He dropped her off and set out to pick up their target. She looked around the barn as she waited. She saw the pointy saw horse they were going to use and a pair of weights sat next to it. The chain they had used with Evan hung near by.

Finally, the door opened and he walked in carrying the body bag over his shoulder. Their victim, apparently didn't weigh too much, which did explain why the weights were pretty heavy.

“Let's hurry,” he said to her as he placed the body down. “I believe I felt him start to wake up.”

She nodded and quickly moved to attach the chain to him as Hannibal moved to the crank waiting for her to finish. She stepped back as he used he crank to raise him up. With him dangling, she moved the pointed saw horse underneath him, just as he was waking up.

He gasped. “Who—who are you people?”

“My dear, this is Chairman Smith,” Hannibal spoke to Claire, ignoring their prey and lowering him just enough onto the point. “You should recognize the name form the news. Mr. Smith here is very against poor and homeless people. He tries to cut funds for food, medical, and other services. Even tried to get those homeless spikes set up here.”

She glared at the chairman as her partner moved to the other side to attach the weight to his ankle. She did the one on her side. Immediately, the point caused pressure on his groin.

“Gah!” He exclaimed.

“Gravity will take it from here.” Hannibal looked in Claire's direction.

The two stood watching as blood began to drip down under the saw horse.

“Please,” the chairman screamed. “Please let me down. I'll do anything.”

Hannibal had picked well. Claire was angry at the pleading man.

“You're a politician. You lie!” She looked up at him.

“No. I will do anything you say.” He shook his head, but the squirming seemed to make things worse.

“No you won't. I'm aware of people like you. You feel that people like me and my family are a blight in this world. And just because we can't afford to run off to Disneyland whenever we get a chance, we deserve to die.”

The pleading stopped and the man scowled down at her. “You're right. Poor people  _are_ nothing but a disease in this society. Milking the system and breeding when you can't afford to pay for the hospital bill. It makes me sick. Not to mention the unsanitary homeless. Constantly begging instead of trying to get a job.”

Claire grew hot. She went to one of the nearby tables and grabbed a knife, then climbed up onto the saw horse. Hannibal feared she'd fall, but didn't stop her from getting up on it. Instead he helped her balance herself and then kept a hand on her to make sure she'd stay balanced. He was very intrigued at what she was planning. She held onto the hanging man's shoulder for good measure. It added more pressure to his groin.

“This is the first time, isn't it?” She gave him a death look right straight in the eyes.

“For what?”

“This is the first time you've ever felt the weight and pressure of surviving in today's world? You've never had to worry about what bill you're going to pay, where you're going to live, or what you're going to eat. Let alone if things get too bad to where your family is going to be separated or someone was deathly sick. You've had it easy. Always been able to afford whatever and you make and pass laws and ordinances that don't effect you at all.” She drove the knife into his chest. Then pulled back skin and bone in a bloody mess, exposing his beating heart. He gasped and stared at her as he was going into shock. Her eyes never left his. “You know what that makes you, right?” She grabbed the organ. “It makes you pretty damn heartless.” She swept the knife inside his chest and cut out his heart. His head fell limp on his chest.

Hannibal helped her down. As soon as his hands were free she handed him the heart. He placed it in a cooler and then proceeded to lower him down to harvest other parts from the dead body. Claire noticed how bloody under the saw horse was. Most of it came from the wound in the chest.

He left her to clean up some so he could place the body in an underpass and make it look like he was a homeless person. Then came back to clean up the rest of the mess, rinse off, and then take her home.

Immediately she ran upstairs to the bathroom. He suspected what was going on and tossed the cooler in the fridge, hid the suits, and followed her. He heard her from the hall. She didn't notice him walk in and hold her hair back.

She gasped for air as she shut the toilet lid and flushed. She laid her head down on her arm.

“I wish you didn't see this,” she said weakly.

“You reacted like this last time too, didn't you?” He stroked her hair. She nodded as a tear, probably from her eyes watering so much, rolled down her cheek. “Why didn't you say anything? Or, more importantly, why did you go with me?”

“The night Hangman came back for me and I took my revenge, I felt so powerful and great. I never felt like that before and I wanted to feel that way again. I knew you go after people who have it coming so-”

“You went, wanting to feel righteous again?”

“Yep. And I did while it was happening, but after I felt ashamed. What have I become, Hannibal?”

“What I do isn't for everyone. Do not go with me again.” He sat down and pulled her into a hug. “There are other ways to get the feeling you desire.”

He helped her stand up and she instantly ran to the sink and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash. Then she turned to face him again.

“Are you disappointed in me?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “No, why would I be? You attempted to share an interest of mine and it was not for you. It was, actually, a pretty brave thing to do.”

She smiled at him. “I feel like I need a shower.”

“I believe I do too.” He kissed her as he removed her shirt.

He stopped to get the water going then returned to her. They undressed each other and went under the running water. Their hands moved all over their bodies while their lips and tongues were busy. Fingers had tendencies to linger over scars.

When her hand wandered, he took it as a sign to lift her up and enter her. They stared deep and lovingly at each other.

She wanted to tell him something she'd wanted to say to him from the moment their relationship turned romantic. “Hannibal, I-”

He shushed her and then kissed her as they finished making love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was at this part I realized that I've been making Claire and Hannibal hook up after macabre things are talked about or done and that I really have a thing against politicians


	9. Mantecados

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feeling of paranoia come over the couple and it's proven correct when an old enemy rips Hannibal's heart for a second time

Within a few a days, the councilman's murder, became just another murder on a list of them that dead-end. Hannibal and Claire had done a decent enough job of cleaning up, and since there was no personal connection to him, they were no where near the list of suspects.

But strange things began to happen to the couple. They both still had the eerie feeling of being watched and followed. Due to the lack of any kind of proof/confrontation they admitted to each other that it must just be paranoia. That is, until one day when Hannibal was on his way to talk with Will.

As he was driving down the road a car, which had been behind him for a great while, sped up and pulled up beside him. He assumed the vehicle was attempting to pass him, but instead it slammed into his side with the full intent to knock him off the road. Thankfully, he wasn't too far away from Will's house. He put the pedal to the metal and made it safely, other than a few dings and scratches to the side of the car, to Will's. They stood outside and watched the car take off.

Then sometime after that, Claire realized she was being followed on her way home from work. She recognized the car shape, color, and the first three digits of the license plate. She took a detour to try and throw it off, but it failed. In a panic, she pulled into the parking lot of a busy store that was open twenty-four hours and waited for the car to leave. After a half an hour or so, she was sure she didn't see the vehicle and cautiously drove home. There was no sight of the car, at least she didn't notice it.

The uneasy feelings followed them into the next week and grew stronger. At both households they felt things had been moved; nothing taken and maybe even nudged just enough to throw off their subconscious. Hannibal even decided to not go hunting for awhile, in fear of who could be behind it all.

The week after that, Hannibal stayed late after his session with Will. He didn't think anything of it, just relaxed and sketched, even read a little, but the hair on his neck spiked up when he swore he heard footsteps. They sounded too heavy to be Claire's. He armed himself with one of his scalpels. A sense of déjà vu also crept over him.

Sure enough the door opened and in walked three men.

“Gentlemen,” Hannibal attempted to assume nothing. “My officer hours are over. But I suppose if something is on your mind-”

Without saying a thing one of the men moved forward and attempted to attack him, but Hannibal was quick to pull out his scalpel and swung connecting with the man's face. He was stunned and stumbled back as the blood ran down his face. One of the other men, grabbed him from behind as the third man charged at him. He kicked him in the chin and he fell back, then he threw his head back to headbutt his captor in the face. The man let go and Hannibal drove the scalpel into his side. He twisted it a little before pulling it out.

The man with the cut face tried again, but was met with the surgical knife once more but this time in his neck. Hannibal had to leave it in him when the one he kicked tackled him, brought him to the floor, and punched him in the face over and over. It didn't look like he was getting back up. But then he heard a loud thud, followed by the man going limp.

It was Claire. “Oh, my God! Did I kill him?” She sat down the statue she had hit him with and moved the attacker off of Hannibal, then helped him up.

“It was either him or me.” He leaned against her. “What are you doing here?” he asked her slightly out of breath.

“I got off work and went to visit you. When you didn't answer, I assumed you were here. For once I assumed right.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her on the forehead.

In front of them the man who had the scalpel in his neck removed it and blood gushed out. The both stood in awe.

“That was a pretty stupid thing to do, wasn't it?” She looked at him.

The man fell back down. “Yeah.”

“Should we do something?”

He looked down at her and shook his head.

Suddenly, the guy who had been stabbed in the stomach gave one last attempt and lunged at Hannibal. He had a switch blade at the ready, but he tripped over the statue that Claire had sat down. The knife fell out of his hand. Like a bolt of lightening, Claire swooped down and grabbed it and handed it to Hannibal.

Hannibal took it, bent down, and held it against the man's throat. “Who sent you?”

 _“Yo nunca voy a decir.”_ He said then grabbed Hannibal's hand and drove the blade into his neck.

Claire moved over to the guy she had hit and tried to feel for a pulse. She didn't feel one. “Damn!”

Hannibal turned to her. “That was a pretty good swing with a heavy statue.”

She stood up. “What the hell is going on? Who are these people?”

“I don't know.” He stood up as well. “He wouldn't say.”

“I understood. I did retain a little Spanish from school.”

The office phone rang. They both turned their attention to the surprising noise.

Hannibal walked over to it and answered. “Doctor Lecter.”

“Oh, hello, Doctor Lecter,” came a slightly muffled, suave voice through the receiver. “It's been a long time.”

Hannibal's eyes grew wide as he realized who it was. “Mason.”

The voice belonged to Mason Verger, the inheritor of the famous Verger pig processing empire. Hannibal met him some time ago, when he was treating the other Verger sibling, Margot, who was unable to lay claim to the fortune due to the fact that she was a woman and a woman who preferred other women to men. During that time he discovered how horrible, and rude, Mason was and took revenge on him without taking Margot's chance away. The encounter left Mason horrible disfigured and paralyzed.

“Oh, Doctor, your voice confirms that it is so hard to get good help these days. And I was so hoping theses folks would do a lot better than the last set. At least those guys brought you to me. Oh, well, what can you do?” Mason chuckled. “Do yourself a favor, and feel free to pass the message to that little woman of yours, don't let your guard down.”

“Mason, next time I see you I'll--” Hannibal didn't finish the sentence due to Mason hanging up on him.

Claire looked at him as he hung the phone up. “Wait....Mason? Who's Mason? Why wouldn't this guy tell you it was this Mason then kill himself, if the dude was going to call and talk to you? That....wha---?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Mason's someone who has a grudge against me. He's a very unstable and twisted person, Claire. I wouldn't put it passed him to lie to these men about what would happen to them if they came back empty handed. We both need to be very careful.”

She nodded.

 

Time passed and Claire eventually remembered the baby and how she should make an appointment to see if it was even still developing. She scheduled it for next month, making the call from work so Hannibal couldn't find out about it and also, in case someone had tapped her cell phone (the latter maybe more of a paranoia thing).

In the meantime, they went about their lives, except for Hannibal's hunts and it had been awhile since the last one, but it didn't seem to bother him any. But other than that, it was still work, shopping, dinners, and the like. FBI wise, there was nothing major where Hannibal had to be called in or Will couldn't solve. He still kept his appointments.

Although, the feeling of being watched never went away, if anything it seemed to have intensified. They were also sure that stuff was being moved in their houses but again if things were moved it was so subtle that neither could be one hundred percent sure. So far there had been no more attacks or noticeable followings. Claire kept her taser with her at all times and made sure all doors everywhere were locked. She was constantly looking around. Hannibal on the other hand took it a little more calmly, other than getting really jumpy at his office and he no longer stayed too late, since he had been attacked there more than once. Everywhere else he just made sure he was aware of his surroundings.

Finally, Claire's doctor appointment came. In the sonogram room they had her undo her jeans just enough to get the gadget where they needed on her belly. She looked down as she did and notice she was starting to bulged just a little; it wasn't even that noticeable unless you knew what was going on and if you saw her without a shirt. She wondered if Hannibal had noticed.

She hopped up on the bed and the doctor, a different one than the one who told her, lubed up her belly and began scanning. She smiled.

“Congratulations!” she began. “The little one made it to month four. He or she seems to be developing at the right pace too; right where they should be. You're very lucky.” She was referring to the notes in Claire's file. “You must've taken decent care of yourself after.”

And just like that all of Claire's memories from after the attack flooded her mind. She smiled and lied, “Yeah.”

They finished up and went into an examination room to further discuss what was going on and what would need to happen.

She asked her, “This is your first child, right?”

“Yes.”

She asked a few other questions then added that Claire needed to take a prenatal vitamin and to make sure to take care of herself.

“--Including, mentally,” she added.

“I don't see that being a problem. The father is a psychiatrist.” She smiled.

“Ok, then. We'll see you next month. Unless, something happens before then.”

So it was official now. Claire and Hannibal were going to be parents and she couldn't wait to tell him. But not now, no. Maybe in two weeks. She wanted to make a big deal out of it. She wanted to have a very special dinner that night, including candles, flowers, and a dinner made by her. She wanted to pass him a card that said something like “see you soon, Daddy” or “Congrats, Daddy” followed by her saying the three words they couldn't bring themselves to say: “I love you”. In her head it seemed like the perfect night.

During the first week, she did go out and buy the prenatal vitamins and took them religiously. She also eyed some baby stuff she'd love to have, but decided to wait, with the exception of an adorable baby book she felt they should start to fill out as soon as possible. She also bought the card; a simple pastel colored thing that had a little duck on the front with nothing written inside. She hid everything in the trunk of her car.

Week two, she announced to Hannibal that she wanted to have a special night with him by the end of the week.

“What's the occasion?” He asked her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She had an answer ready. “We can't have a special night without some kind of ulterior motive?”

“Just curious is all.” He gave her a kiss. “If you really want to do that then who am I to stop you.”

The day in question, Claire spent her morning shooting the bow and arrow, just as she had been for the past month. Her shot improved and Hannibal enjoyed watching her hit the target almost every single time now. He was so proud of her.

But he was more proud of what she was planning that night. How she had planned to tell him, and how she had kept the fact that she was pregnant from him. Of course he knew already, he smelled the change on her, noticed her mood, and of course her belly, getting just a little bigger and solid. He just wanted to wait until she was ready to tell him before he said anything about it. And surprise, he was pretty ecstatic at the thought of having a Lecter Jr. running around.

In the afternoon, she began prepping some of the stuff for dinner and of course he helped her. After which they sat in the dining room and talked until he had to go out.

“There's something I need to pick up, before it gets too late,” he told her rising from his seat.

“As long as you're back by six, at the latest.” She gave him a pretty motherly tone. It was a tone she'd use before, but it seemed more motherly now that he knew for sure.

A kiss goodbye, “I will be.”

While he was gone and the food was cooking, she walked out to her car and grabbed the stuff to began setting the table with the flowers and candles she had bought. She even laid out the gift wrapped baby book with the made out card attached to it. Then she went upstairs to change into something just a little less causal. It wasn't much: just a nicer pair of pants and a blouse. She didn't even care that it showed some of her scars, including the little hangman.

Meanwhile, Hannibal went to pick up his dry cleaning and do a couple more things, but most importantly, he stopped at a jeweler to pick up an elegant diamond ring. While, Claire planned on surprising him with the news of being a father, he planned on surprising her by making her his bride. He finally convinced himself that she was that special to him and that he could even say the three words they couldn't bring themselves to say: “I love you”.

It was almost five and she had messaged him on what time he was planning on being home. He was busy at the jewelers at the time and told her he'd probably be there at about five thirty maybe five forty-five. Knowing that she turned the oven down.

She decided to sit in the living room for a bit. Suddenly the one door at the end of the room opened and in walked a man. How long had he been waiting for her? How did he get in?

'Crap! The front door!' she realized in the excitement of the day, she had forgotten to take precautions when she went to her car.

She immediately, sprang to her feet and ran from the room. She thought about running out the front door, but felt their were too many locks. The dining room or kitchen would be better; only one lock/simple flick.

She found another intruder waiting for her in the dining room. It surprised her and she stopped for a split second. It wasn't long but enough to where the guy caught up behind her and the one a head of her charged. With her taser upstairs, her only reaction was to grab an arrow and the bow, which she had neglected to put away properly, from the cabinet by the fireplace and swing. It the bow struck the one guy and broke and stunned him. The man to her right was met in the the throat with the arrow. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

She quickly moved to the door but too late their was someone outside. He broke the glass and as she backed up she was grabbed by the one she had hit with the bow. As she kicked and struggled, doing everything she could to defend herself three more men walked in. It sunk in that she was heavily outnumbered.

She heard someone push everything off the table, causing shattering and clanking. Then they tossed her on the table, in a way where her head whacked it pretty hard. The men held her down, one at each limb. She struggled some more, trying to twist her fingers in ways to dig her nails in, but nothing was working. Wherever this was going, it was not going to end well.

Then she heard a mechanical whirling sound and heavy breathing. She turned her head and saw three more men come into the room, one of which was in a wheel chair and the bottom of his face was covered by a plastic mask that mimicked a face.

“Hello, Mrs. Lecter,” chimed the wheel chair man. “I only call you that because I'm not sure what else to call you. I am Mason Verger. Does that ring any bells? I'm sure you've heard of my empire.” Claire stared blankly at him. “Or if anything, your boyfriend is the one who put me in this predicament. Or, did he not tell you.”

“He told me enough about you. It's not like you didn't have it coming.”

“Oh, aren't you a little firecracker. I can see why he likes you.” He wheeled closer. “But dear, Hannibal Lecter has caused me so many problems, I need to pay him back, you know, and since he's not here. Well, I'm sorry. It's nothing personal. Well, at least, against you, you just happen to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

His eyes shifted to one of his henchmen, who turned to the others and spoke something in Spanish. There was an insult in there and Mason didn't react. Apparently, he didn't speak Spanish. Claire thought quickly.

“ _Por favor. No me matas. Estoy embarazada,”_ She shouted. What she had said: 'Please. Don't kill me. I'm pregnant.'

The men looked around at each other. One of them spoke to her. He was wearing a wedding ring. “¿ _De veras?” '_ Really?'

She offered up some proof. “ _Sí. Tengo una carta y un libro para Doctor Lecter_ ” 'Yes. I have a letter and a book for Doctor Lecter.'

“What? What are you all saying?” Mason was jabbering.

The man seemed to legitimately be having second thoughts. One of the other men looked for the package they had knocked down. He found it and opened it.

“Let me see that.”

The man off to Mason's left took the book and card from the other. He took it back to Mason.

“Oh, how touching.” She was unable to see, but could tell he was smiling. “A tiny Lecter.” He laughed. “I am looking at Lecter's legacy.” He laughed harder. “This is even better! Guess what, boys? We're going to have to shake things up a little here.”

“Señor Mason,” the one she spoke to began to argue. “She is with child. I can't--”

“You will, or something will happen to your child and your wife. Same with all of you. Comprende!” Mason threatened.

The man's eyes widened and teared up as he looked back at Claire. “Please forgive me.”

She was angry at first, but knew deep down if she was in the same situation, she'd do whatever it takes to protect the already in this world child of hers. “I do.”

Mason screamed orders at them. She closed her eyes as she felt someone hold a hand over her mouth, then her body being exposed and the vertical cut that was cut into her starting at the top of her chest.

During the muffled screams, the man that handed Mason the book found Claire's phone and was told to dial Hannibal's cell number and put it on speaker. It rang a couple times.

He answered, “Claire, I told you--”

“Hi, honey, I'm home,” Mason tormented.

“Mason, what are you doing with her phone?” Hannibal growled.

“Just borrowing it to make sure I got a hold of you.”

“If you've hurt one hair on her head--”

“Doctor Lecter, you don't have time to make idle threats. I think I'll let, Claire, is it? Yeah, I'll let her do the talking.”

He nodded to the henchman to hold out the phone towards her and the one who held her mouth let go, but she refused to make a sound.

“Oh, come on. A little while ago we couldn't keep you quiet. Anyone, mind helping?”

There was a sickening sound that did the trick. “Han- Hannibal!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Hannibal picked up the pace to get to his car. He heard Mason say “there we go” as the phone was aimed back at him.

“I don't know how much longer she's got, dear doctor, but I suggest you get here as soon as possible.”

“Mason, I swear, you will be dead at our next encounter.” His voice was full of anger and hate.

Mason and a couple of the henchmen made their way out to one of the get away vehicles to make sure Mason was long gone before Hannibal arrived. “I don't doubt you'll try. I must be going now, Doctor. I wish you the best of luck.” He gloated at taking some kind of revenge on Hannibal.

The phone was hung up and then taken back to the house as the van Mason was in drove away. It was placed next to the arrows. The others finished their dirty work and began leaving. A couple stayed behind long enough to say their apologies and a prayer. They left their dead comrade behind. The second van pulled away just as Hannibal arrived.

He ran out of his car and through the front door, which Mason's goons left opened.

“Claire!” he shouted checking the living room and finding it empty. “Claire!”

He entered the trashed dining room. There was the body of one of the men, glass all over the floor, broken plates, candles, and silverware on the floor. And the table; it was now covered in blood. And organs.

He stood in horror as he saw Claire, gutted. Everything was still attached, but in a very inappropriate state. He saw she was still breathing, but she was fading fast.

“Hannibal,” she gasped raising up her hand weakly for him. He held it tightly. “I- I-” she found it difficult to talk as her body grew desperate.

He shushed her. “Claire, I'm so sorry. I never should have left you alone.” Tears were filling his eyes.

She gasped. “My fault. I didn't...check door.” She coughed a little and blood oozed from her mouth. “I'm sorry...I should've.... told you sooner.” She got out of his grip and reached down towards a bloody cloth napkin and the card one of Mason's men laid next to her. She knew what was wrapped in it.

Hannibal saw her struggling, pulled it towards him a little, and unfolded it. It was only five to six inches long, and it might as well had been his heart. Then he grabbed the note, but didn't read it. He didn't have that kind of time.

He folded the napkin back over then spoke. “I knew already.”

“Of course you did.” She tried to smile, but that took energy that she did not have. “Hannibal, I love you.” She finally said it, uninterrupted. Tears rolled down her face.

He let the tears fall from his eyes too. “I love you too, Claire.” He bent down to kiss her. He felt her take her last breath as his lips left hers. The exposed organs, one by one, slowed down.

On the way to the house, he dialed for help, hoping that they'd get there before it was too late. They had failed. He sat on the stairs as they did what they needed to do. Will was passing by on his way out of town when he saw all the commotion. He stopped and forced his way in. He saw Hannibal on the stairs holding the note, which he had just read, and the velvet box that held the ring. He didn't hold back the tears, not even when he looked at Will. For the second time in his life, his heart had been torn out of him.

 

The funeral was held a couple of days later. Will and Alana attended and so did Eva, Price, Zeller, some of her coworkers, including Evan's father, and a handful of friends that stayed in touch through Facebook. It was a simple ceremony, nothing fancy. It reflected her so well.

He made sure she took their child with her into whatever lays beyond this life.

For once he canceled all of his appointments, he couldn't bring himself to eat, and just kept to himself for the rest of the day. He did stop at his office to pick up the picture from his desk. He wanted it at home with him. He set it up on one of the nightstands by his bed. He placed her necklace, the one she never took off, around it and then sat the ring and note next to it.

He was fully aware of the emotional turmoil he was doomed to have for awhile and he'd have to have Will and Alana help him through it. But for now, he tortured himself with everything that reminded him of her. Not only was there the miniature shrine he had on his nightstand, but her computer was set up on the other table. He felt the need to hear her Spotify playlist, at least for a while. It passed through songs he never heard or cared about before. Then it played Fields of Gold and Scarborough Fair. A couple songs later he heard So Small. He broke down though when it changed to Lullaby.

When he calmed down, he read the note again.

_“Dear Hannibal, I am so happy to announce that I get to have your child. I don't know what our future will bring, but I'm glad that at least we've got each other and now this. You've been the best thing in my life and I hope I get to spend the rest of it with you and Hannibal Jr. Love, Claire.”_

No, it wasn't well thought out or written like what he had written for her, nor was her hand writing any better, but it was her. It was the way she thought and talked, which made it the most beautiful piece of literature at the moment for him.

He drifted off, staring at the stuff on the end table. He had no clue what time it happened; it was one of those blink and you're out kind of things. He just remembered hearing Celtic Woman's the Prayer playing in the background.

Suddenly, the room grew very white and a hint of a breeze passed through, as a humanoid unicorn essence approached his bed. The unicorn-ish traits of it faded away, revealing Claire in a long white flowing gown, her hair back to the long and red that it had been when they first met. No scars were visible and she carried a tiny bundle in her arms. She sat down on the bed and lightly shook him awake. He looked up in awe; it was the most beautiful she'd ever looked.

“Claire?” he blinked quickly trying to focus.

She nodded smiling.

He bolted upright, and smothered her with kisses and hugs. Then noticed the bundle in her arms.

“Is this-?”

She nodded again. “It is. Do you want to hold him?”

He opened his arms and she handed the bundle to him. He was twice the size he was when he was originally taken from his father. He smiled down and rocked him gently.

Claire stared at the sight. The smile never left her face. “He's beautiful, isn't he?”

“Yes. Just like his mother.” He pulled her down for a kiss. He pulled away when he noticed the bundle start to fade away. He looked at Claire questioningly.

“He's going to be with Mischa,” she explained.

“What about you?”

Her smile faded and she shook her head. “I made my choices. Where they are, I cannot go. As long as our son, is ok, I'll be ok.” The smile returned. “But, at least I get to be with you, when the time comes.”

He chuckled as an interesting thought hit him. “You are nothing but a dream now, Claire. Just my subconscious trying to put my mind at peace.”

“Are you sure? Of course you are. Is it working?”

He couldn't say for sure. He'd have to take some time to analyze the dream and discuss it among peers.

“If this does work, then it is real enough. And you get to say a proper goodbye.” She tilted her head some. “You won't forget me, will you?”

“How could I? You've been such an interesting aspect of my life and you fully accepted me. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you; both of you. I should have--”

“Hannibal, stop doing that to yourself. It's not your fault,” She touched his face, just as he had hers so many times before. It felt so real. “Don't dwell on it.” She paused for a moment, her expression dropped the loving look and took on a more serious tone. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Kill Mason. And don't do it for me. Don't avenge me, avenge our son. From the moment I found out he survived all I'd been through he was the most important thing in the universe. Do it for what could've been.”

His eyes flashed evilly into hers. “You can count on it.”

“Good. I love you, Hannibal. I wanted to say that for so long but was so scared to,” she chuckled.

“I felt the same way, honestly. And I love you too.”

“Another thing: be happy for me, ok?” He nodded. “Goodbye, Hannibal Lecter.”

They kissed passionately one last time as she faded just as their son did and the room went back to being dark. He was suddenly awake and saw that he really did sit up and had his hand outstretched like he was cupping her face. He dropped it down, slightly embarrassed of himself. He looked around the room, then focused on the picture again.

He said one final thing before going back to sleep with plans of revenge and getting his life back to normal running through his head:

“Goodbye, Claire Dove.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned this ending almost as soon as I started writing, except it would've been another original character, but then Mason was introduced in the show and I was like 'YO!'. I knew Claire couldn't stay with Hannibal and in reality he probably would eventually have to kill her and either raised their son alone or put him up for adoption.   
> While at work the dream/vision sequence hit me and I found it too heartbreaking NOT to include it. Matters were made worse, when I was re-reading my notes over it and Celtic Woman's The Prayer starting playing (I nearly cried). When my beta reader/bf read this part he was near tears and said he wanted to punch my computer.


	10. A Memory Palace Room With a View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Hannibal think about in prison?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An idea that popped in my head off and on since finishing Dulces

Years seem to move slow yet fast all at the same time when you're on the run.

Hannibal felt it. He spent a good while on the run after the night he burnt his bridges and left his loved ones severely injured or even dead. But they had found out about his---tastes. How he enjoyed the thrill of the kill and taste of human. He couldn't stay after that; couldn't face the consequences that lied ahead.

But, and he knew that, they would eventually catch up to him. Will survived and he was determined to find him; bring him to justice and somewhat avenge those involved that night. And he did. Hannibal couldn't help but love Will's stubbornness.

Hannibal was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a lifetime behind bars at the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The hospital was still under the authority of Doctor Frederick Chilton. Chilton never forgot nor forgave Hannibal for setting him up as the Chesapeake Ripper, leading a series of events that earned him a bullet hole scar on his face, and he never let Hannibal forget either.

Although, in a prison cell, Hannibal was aloud books and tools to draw, as long as he behaved. And if it was found that he didn't cooperate, these privileges were taken away, and just the slightest argument with Chilton would be enough. He wouldn't care too much though, when his books, pencils, and sketch paper were taken. No. He didn't even care if he was beaten or tortured. As long as the necklace he was wearing was left alone. A certain bargain had been made in order for him to be aloud to wear it, and even dear Will stood up for him on the subject. The Ankh he wore was that special to him.

When Hannibal wasn't in therapy, reading, or sketching, he'd sit on his bed and visit his memory palace. Drifting through its corridors to what has been or what might've been or to what could be. His favorite room was a what might've been.

He opened the special door and stepped through walking into the house he lived in when he lived a normal-ish life. He was greeted by the smell of a delicious meal cooking. He took off and hung his coat by the door, taking a small black, velvet box from a pocket and transferred it to one of his pants pockets.

“Hannibal?” Came a voice from another room. “Is that you?”

He walked into his old living room and smiled at the sight of his Claire, sitting on the couch scrolling through her iPod while waiting for him, and not pulled apart on his dining room table. She got up from her seat when he stepped farther in.

“Who else?” He joked as he gave her a big hug.

“Whoa. What's----did you miss me?”

Of course he did.

She pulled out of the embrace some and looked up at him smiling. He saw the Ankh pendant resting on her chest, right where it should be.

“I was just worried. That's all.” He tenderly kissed her forehead.

“Oh! Ok. Well, let's get to the dining room. Supper should be ready.” She gently patted his arm as she left.

She had set up the dining table with candles and flowers. The plates and silverware were in their places waiting for the food. Near the centerpiece was a package wrapped up in pastel pink and blue, with a ribbon, and a card. He knew exactly what was under the paper and what the card said.

His darling returned with the cart loaded with the special meal. She noticed that he was staring at the present.

“That's for after we eat,” she told him; a big grin on her face.

He moved to her side. “Please, allow me.”

He held out her seat for her and then took over serving the food. She had done most of the cooking and he was pleasantly surprised at how well she had done on her own, with minimal help.

And, although, they were not of the same intelligence level, nor shared the same interests really, they chatted away at whatever had popped into their minds as they ate.

With the last bite, Claire began, “I do have a reason for wanting to do this tonight.”

He tried to keep his voice from showing that he already knew. “Oh, you do?”

“Yes.” She got up from her seat and made her way to his side of the table, taking the present with her.

Whether she intended to or not, he moved his seat enough and guided her on his lap as she held out the gift. He glanced at the card, since he had memorized what it had said and then worked on removing the wrapping paper.

“Congratulations, Daddy,” she whispered in his ear as he stared down at the baby book.

It was pretty unlike him, but he never did think of the perfect thing to say after she finally told him. All he could, and wanted, to do was give her the biggest kiss he'd ever given her and hold her so close he could feel both her's, and the baby's heartbeats.

When he finally released her, she laughed, “I take it you're thrilled.”

“I am,” he answered.

“I was worried. That's why I waited a long while to tell you.”

He chuckled, “I know. And I have known. Which is why--” He reached into his pocket as she looked at him lovingly and questioningly, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Claire Dove.” He held out the box with the full purpose of opening it, but she placed a hand to stop him. He looked up at her slightly hurt, wanting an explanation.

The adoring expression never left her face. She knew what it was. “I want to give my answer _before_ you open it.”

That was just like her. She didn't want to appear influenced by the expensive piece of jewelry. She wanted to make sure she was influenced by her heart.

He couldn't help but smile and place his other hand against her cheek as he made a second attempt. “Claire, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.” She moved her hand off of the box and cupped his face as she kissed him, possibly more passionate than he did.

He broke the kiss to place the ring on her finger. She giggled as it slid perfectly in place. Her face beaming, eyes shining the entire time.

He held her for a little longer before she left his lap. She made her way to clean up but he held onto her hand. And moved her so she was standing in front of him. He looked up at her and then at her belly. Gently and cautiously, he moved his hand under her blouse and placed it on the very slight bump. He always wanted to feel his growing son.

Hannibal felt Claire slightly laugh as she undid the lower buttons on the blouse to expose that area of her body. Instinctively, he leaned in and kissed it, followed by placing his ear to the spot. He knew he wouldn't feel or hear anything; he just wanted to be as close to the two people he loved the most as humanly possible. Her hand idly played with his hair, like it usually did.

As his mind wondered, the scene that played out before began to change. In comfortable fast forward, he watched many dinners, breakfasts, lunches come and go and his son and Claire grew.

It slowed down when Claire appeared to be about seven months along, belly fully showing as such, like it was meant to. It felt as if it was the day before their wedding. Again, he found himself rubbing, kissing, and cuddling the bump, then guiding her face towards his to show the mother his love. Tears formed in his eyes at what was taken from him.

“Hannibal, are you crying?” Another voice broke through the walls of his palace.

He opened his eyes, bringing himself back to the sad reality. To his side stood a woman, around the same age as Claire when he lost her, about same height, only she was darker haired and slightly more muscular.

“Good evening, Agent Starling.” He chimed, quickly blinking away what little tears were left.

Clarice looked at him worriedly. She had never seen that much emotion from him in, the past couple of weeks she'd met with him. From everything she read and heard he was incapable of it. “Where did you go just now? Must not have been a happy place.”

“No, Clarice, it was. Just a special part of my memory palace. Memories I cherish and a possibility I can never get over.” He fiddled with the necklace as he talked. She gave a half smile, not knowing how to react to him opening up to her; which he didn't mind doing so. The way she carried herself or a way she'd say something would make him think of Claire. It made things just a little more comfortable and, more importantly, reminded him that there was still something he needed to take care of. Maybe, Clarice herself could help him achieve that goal.

 


End file.
